The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.



+---------------------------------------------------------------+
|                    *** DISCLAIMER ***                         |
|                                                               |
| This is a story of pure fiction.  Any resemblance to persons  |
| living or dead, incidents real or imagined, places real or    |
| imagined, is purely coincidental.                             |
|                                                               |
|         IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ FURTHER.             |
|                                                               |
| No part of this story may be reproduced on any media of any   |
| kind without the written permission of the author.            |
|                                                               |
+---------------------------------------------------------------+

                             - 4 -
   
   Even before I rounded the corner I could smell the chlorine.  Or   
bromine.  Or whatever it is you put into those things.  Steven led
the way.  We stopped at a small closet and Steven pulled out a handful
of small white terrycloth towels.  We walked past a little alcove with
a washer and dryer and then, there we were.

   It was a tiny room with a tightly planked wood deck and benches all
around.  Like a sauna.  In the middle sat a large moulded fiberglass
spa.  It looked large enough for at least four people, possibly six.
The only noise was the hum of a blower and the sound of bubbling
water.  Despite the blower, the humidity was oppressive.  I didn't
know much about houses, but I knew enough to believe that this one was
doomed if they kept pumping that much moisture into the air down here.

   Steven walked to the far wall and switched on the stereo.  Mozart
streamed into the room from everywhere.

   "Dad..."

   I hadn't even noticed Peter.  His head was all that was visible as
he sat plastered against one side of the spa.  The surface of the
water foamed and bubbled around his head.  I imagined a group of head-
hunters standing behind him, their big sticks stirring the water
around and around.  Steam rose from everywhere and I thought, a few
carrots, some onions, a little seasoning.  Turn up the temperature a
bit.  It was a great scene, the one that floated through my head.  It
was.  Natives chanting.  A string quartet doing great justice to
Wolfgang.  The smell of dinner cooking in the big pot.  And a fitting
end for an arrogant little bastard.  Now, all we needed was a nice
Zinfandel and...

   "Alan will be staying with us tonight.  Peter, you'll stay in my
room."

   "How come I always..."

   Steven held up his hand to silence his son.  Peter thrashed at the
surface of the water.  He glared at me.  My popularity here just
dropped into the single digits.  I tried to be the diplomat.
"Actually, I could sleep on the sofa in the..."

   "No guest of ours is going to sleep on a couch."  And that was the
end of the discussion.

   Peter slid around so that now he was sitting with his back toward
us.  I got the message.  Steven placed the pile of towels on one of
the benches, then started to leave.  He turned back and was about to
say something to Peter.  He thought better, I guess.  He turned to me.

   "I have an appointment this evening.  Would you mind watching the
kids?"

   I choked.  I couldn't refuse his request.  Not after all of the
hospitality I'd been shown.  Still, there was Peter.  I didn't trust
him.  Zoe.  I would stay anywhere with her, anytime.  But Peter.
There was something about him.  Mean, vicious, I don't know.
Something.

   "Sure, I'd be happy to," I managed.

   "Good.  Now have a good soak.  I'll be back in a couple of hours."

   Then he was gone.  I looked toward Peter.  He ignored me.  I
thought, what could possibly happen in two hours?  Well, let's see.
Cities have been destroyed and thousands of people killed in a few
seconds with nuclear weapons.  Earthquakes, avalanches, tsunamis,
deadly bacteria spills, electrocution...  I'm in big trouble here.

                              -+-
   "I don't have a suit."

   "What?"

   "A suit.  I don't have a swimsuit," I said, hoping to make some
sort of contact with Peter.

   Peter stood up.  He was completely naked.  No suit.  Then he
returned to the bubbles.  No suit.  Okay.  So I undressed.  I placed
my clothes in a neat pile on one of the benches.  I stood on the
deck.  I gazed down at my feet, pale from the long winter.  I looked
at the rest of my aging body.  No competition for a healthy 12-year-
old boy, I thought.  Well, perhaps some competition.

   Peter watched me climb into the spa.  When I was settled in, he
looked away.  I was up to my neck, so to speak, in a warm, pleasant
galaxy of soothing water and massaging bubbles.  My mind raced.  I
tried to think of something to say to Peter.  I tried to remember what
words I wanted to hear when I was that age.  I couldn't remember
anymore.  Maybe sports.

   "How's the soccer going?"

   Peter glared at me.  "We haven't one a single game."  Then he
looked away.

   Damn.  I forgot.  Negative numbers.  Now I'm into negative numbers.
That's okay.  If they can work their way back on Jeopardy then so
can I.  "Why do you think?"

   "What?"

   "Your games.  Why do you think you're losing all the time?"

   "'Cause they're winning all the time.  What do you think?"

   Yep.  Couldn't argue with that one.  But at lest we're talking.  I
inhaled to speak again but a noise outside the door drew my attention.
She floated around the corner  Zoe.  Still in her school dress, her
hair still tousled from her fight with Peter.  She looked disappointed
to see Peter still in the spa.

   She began with her dress.  Slowly, deliberately, she undid each
button.  From her neck to her waist where the buttons ended and the
skirt part began.  One after the other.  I looked at Peter.  He was
watching me watch Zoe.

   I steeled myself and said, "Doesn't your skin get wrinkled if you
stay in too long?"

   He didn't say anything.  He just stared at me.  I was bigger,
stronger, smarter, wealthier, and he just cut me in half with that
look.  I didn't like this boy.

   I shifted my position so I could watch Zoe without turning my head
sideways.  She pulled the dress from her shoulders, exposing the most
beautiful and delicate arms I've ever seen.  She looked up at me and
smiled as the top of the dress fell to her waist.  She didn't wear
a bra.  There wasn't much there to hold up.  But what was there was
excruciatingly beautiful.  Her breasts, two broad, delicate mounds
that rose maybe an inch from her chest.  On top of each was a shiny
pink saucer-shaped disk that extended out even further.  And in the
center of each, a little dot of a nipple, now hard from rubbing
against the rough fabric of her dress.

   Zoe undid the little belt and pushed the dress all the way to the
floor.  It dropped in a heap, dead.  She had killed it.  The life she
gave it was gone.  But now my eyes gazed on those exquisite legs,
rising from the deceased fabric.  Zoe bent down and scratched her
ankle, pushing her white sock almost flat against her black shoe.  Her
panties were tiny little things.  Not tight.  Not baggy.  They moved
with her.  As she stood up again, she dragged her hand up her leg,
over her hip, and stopped at her waist.  She slid her fingers under
the elastic waistband of her panties and pushed them down over her
legs.  One at a time, she removed each foot.

   Zoe stood there, naked except for her shoes and socks.  She picked
up her dress and walked to the wall.  There was a hook there and she
had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach it.  The heat from the
water and the sight of this beautiful young creature stretched out was
causing me to become lightheaded.  I felt I was about to pass out.

   "Are you coming in or not!" yelled Peter.  Ah, the breaker of
bubbles.  Peter was better than a cold shower.

   I recovered.  Zoe almost had the dress up to the hook.  Her leg
muscles, slender and firm.  Her tight little ass with its twin, almost
spherical cheeks.  The creamy color of her perfect skin.  If I died
right now, it all would have been worth it.  With a tiny grunt, she
made it.  The dress was safe.  Zoe turned.  It was the first time I
had seen her body.  Completely.  She pranced back to the bench.  She
put one foot on it and began to unlace her shoe.  Slowly,
deliberately, she untied the bow, then the knot.  She slipped the shoe
off and changed legs.  She repeated the operation on the other foot.
Now, only her socks remained.  I became conscious that my cock was now
fully erect and that my hand had been drawn to it.

   Did Zoe know the effect she was having on me?  Would she care?  She
crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.  Oh how I wanted to
enfold her and keep her warm.  She moved the tips of her fingers down
over her pink nipples, past her smooth tummy, and brought them
together over the smooth, shiny mound between her legs.  She slipped
a single index finger into her slit for just a second.  It seemed to
be an almost unconscious thing for her to do.  The kind of thing a
child can get away with, but never a grownup.  She looked up and
caught my eyes appreciating her.  I guess it's just not possible to
look without looking.  I was losing my sense of timing.

   "C'mon, pebble tits.  In or not?"

   Somebody needs to slap this kid in the mouth.  Zoe took off one
sock and threw it at Peter.  It landed on his face.  Great shot!  I
bet Peter wished he could shoot soccer goals that well.  Peter
immediately grabbed it and threw the now wet sock back at Zoe.  It hit
her in the chest with a resounding slap.

   "Ow!"

   "Ha!" and Peter seemed satisfied.  Although you never really knew
with him, I was beginning to learn.

   The sound of a car's engine starting close by drew all of our
attentions.  Steven was off to his appointment.  We were on our own.
I was on my own.  Was Peter about to turn into Mr. Hyde now?  I waited
for something to happen.  I held my breath.  I looked around.
Everything was the same as before.  I watched as Zoe wound up to throw 
her other sock at Peter.  Oh no, I thought, the final provocation.
But she threw high and the breeze from the blower re-targeted the
missile.  Before I knew it, I had a sock resting on my face.  Peter
laughed as hard as he could.

   "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry," cried Zoe.  And Peter laughed even harder.

   Thank God, I thought.  The ice had been broken.  Now to most
people, the thought of having someone else's smelly sock resting on
their face is, well, you can imagine.  But to me, the scent of any
part of the child who, only moments ago, wore this, this, ethereal
glove was the finest perfume.  I drank it in.  I reached up and drew
the sock across my face, pressing it against my skin.  I looked at
Peter.  Then at Zoe.  She had her hands over her mouth.  They both
looked at me for signs of anger.  I laughed hard.  Then they laughed.
We all laughed together.  I tossed the sock back to Zoe.  Peter
actually smiled at me.  We splashed each other.  Did he accept me
now?  Why did I care?

   Zoe was now completely naked as she walked to the edge of the spa.
She braced her hands against the edge and went up on her tiptoes.  She 
peered in.  My cock was still hard but the bubbles and moving water
kept it hidden.  Zoe dipped her hand into the water,  She looked at me
and smiled.

   "What does it take to get you in?" screeched Peter.  "C'mon pebble
tits."

   "Stop calling me that."

   "Then get in."

   "I'm getting.  I'm getting."

   And Zoe lifted her leg gracefully over the edge of the spa and
pierced the surface of the water with her toe.  I followed that
beautiful leg as it slowly disappeared beneath the surface.  As her
leg went in, Zoe turned her body toward me.  Her legs were spread
apart as she prepared to swing her other leg over the edge.  The
slit in her tiny mound opened wide giving me a priceless view of her
precious little cunt.  Could she possibly know what she was doing to
me?

   Zoe now stood in the middle of the spa.  The water came up to a
spot midway between her knees and her crotch and swirled all around
her.  She looked at Peter, then at me.  I think she was trying to
pick a place to sit down.  Suddenly, Peter reached up and pulled her
down and toward him.  Zoe lost her balance and splashed into the
water.  Her legs went up into the air and her head went under.  I was
about to reach out and rescue her when she bobbed to the surface.
She hit the water where Peter was, I suspect in hopes of hitting him.
Peter just laughed.  Zoe wiggled away from his grip and found a seat
between us.  For a moment, everything and everyone was calm.

   "Quit it!" shouted Zoe.  She glared at Peter.

   "What?"

   "Just quit it!"

   I could see Peter and he must be reaching out to Zoe under the
water.  I could see that she was pushing his hand away over and over
again.  He was relentless.  With that much persistence, I can't
understand why his soccer team hasn't won any games.

   I decided to try to help the situation.  "Anybody know any good
songs?"  The way they both looked at me.  I felt like an unwanted
substitute teacher at the start of a school day.  I'm losing ground
here.

                            *  *  *

------------------------- (End of Chapter 4) -------------------------
------------ (Comments, pro or con, are always welcome) --------------
