Author's Note: Some romances take a long time to develop, and this is one of them. This story is about how love may start rather innocuously and develop over time until it holds the promise of fulfillment yet to come. Since the primary female character of this story is underaged, there is NO sex -- repeat, NO underaged sexual relations or situations that might be considered illegal, pornographic, or socially abhorrent. So, if you are into that kind of thing, stop here and read elsewhere. But should you decide to continue, the wait will be like a fine but difficult dessert in the making, and hopefully, you will agree.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A delicate souffle is notoriously difficult to make. The egg whites must be beaten until they are light and fluffy. The other ingredients must be gently handled to achieve the right amount of flavor density -- too heavy and the dessert will not rise -- too light and it will be runny. Lastly, a souffle must be given the proper amount of time to bake since it will fall flat if undercooked, overcooked, or the oven opened to let out the heat.
Some romances are like a souffle in that they require a delicate balance, a patient touch, a long baking time, and a tremendous amount of luck to achieve a delicate yet extremely flavorful end product. Such was the case with Lauren who I first met when she was but a child. Our relationship gradually developed over the years until one day I turned around to find that Lauren had become a lovely young woman who was in love with me.
My name is Gary Sinclair, and I want to state upfront that I am not a damn cradle robbing bastard, a closet pedophile, or a groomer of young innocent girls. However, despite what certain powers that be may think, not all romances miraculously begin at the mature age of eighteen. Some romances are like a souffle that takes time, the right amount of care, and the necessary luck to hopefully perfect the desired confectionery delight. So, it was with Lauren and me.
I had an affinity for water and at an early age learned to swim at the nearby YMCA through its aquatics program. By the time I entered high school, I was a confident and accomplished swimmer who tried out for and made the high school's variety swimming team as a freshman. Under the critical eye and patient tutelage of my various swim coaches, I improved and ultimately became the number one contender in many singles and team relay events. During the off-season, I enlarged my water skills by being a part of the County's junior lifeguard program, learning not only how to swim in an ocean, but other water safety and lifesaving skills.
Yet, I always considered my aquatic home base to be the local YMCA. To pay back what I had been given, I began by volunteering to help out at the pool with its swimming programs. When I showed the teaching temperament and aquatic skills needed to work with the beginner boys and girls, I was made a pool instructor assistant who helped out the primary instructor with a group of novice swimmers. It was a nice after-school job that allowed me to do what I loved and to use the pool whenever classes weren't being taught.
Now, several good things come with swimming. One, it is a form of exercise that works out all body parts. Two, it burns a lot of fat (no matter how much you eat) and allows you to have a trim body. And three, swimming makes you look really ripped in terms of muscle definition. When combined with having a fairly decent-looking face and a laid-back personality, I have very little problems attracting the feminine gender.
Without bragging, I enjoyed more than my fair share of female companionship (if you know what I mean). Still, there was no one special who captured my interest. That is until the summer before my high school senior year when Lauren Yamazaki entered my life.
I had been assigned four after-school swim students who were entering the beginning of advanced swimming. The first sibling pair was Rachel and Mitchell, with the former being two years older than her eleven-year-old brother. The second pair was Lauren who was the same age as Mitchell and her sister, Emily, who was a year younger. Of my foursome, it was Lauren who immediately caught my attention.
Besides being the best swimmer in the group, Lauren was intriguing. She was a slip of a young girl with a girlish four-foot figure and a cute face, but I think it was her large almond-shaped eyes that were simply engaging. Or maybe it was that at a very young age, Lauren clearly showed the potential to be a star swimmer given her assertive personality, her drive to excel, and her willingness to do whatever was necessary to achieve her goal.
This was not lost on her father, John, who was some hot-shot attorney. "Gary," he said to me one afternoon after the pool class, "Lauren, my eldest daughter, wants you to give her personal swimming lessons as my birthday present to her. Although she'll be entering the sixth grade when school starts, Lauren has made it known that when she enters high school... your school...she plans on making the varsity swim team as you did in your freshman year...and excel in the sport like you. What better way of her doing so than by being coached by you.
"Now, I've talked to the YMCA's administration and aquatics program coordinator about Lauren and the possibility of you...and no one else...giving my daughter with 'private' swimming lesson. They were understandably reluctant since you're still in high school; however, since I'm a major donor to the Y, they finally agreed to make an exception, saying that you could use the pool to coach Lauren but not a part of the Y's program. Of course, I would have to sign the necessary waiver of liability forms and pay you directly for Lauren's private lessons. So, Gary, what do you say?
What could I say? The private lessons paid a hell of a lot better than my part-time group assistant job would. Plus, I had an attentive and sound swimmer who had the potential to be more. And then lastly, there was something about Lauren that intrigued me even though I couldn't put my finger on it at the time. In the end, I mumbled, "I've been coached but never have formally coached someone. But sure...I'll give it a try."
~ ~ ~ ~
Lauren and I sat down after her afternoon group swim to get to know one another. "I've got to ask you," I started out, "why me? I mean the YMCA has more experienced swimming instructors who taught me...heck, I'm still learning."
While she seemed hesitant at first, Lauren then lifted her head and ensnared me with those eyes of hers. "I love the water and consider myself to be a good swimmer. However, when I watch you swim after my class is over...well...I feel like a guppy that wiggles and waggles. I want to be like you who effortlessly and cleanly cuts through the water. I need to improve my technique with the basic strokes to make me more competitive."
I was taken aback a bit at Lauren's critical assessment and mature determination. Then to lighten the situation, I jokingly remarked. "Are you sure that you're eleven years old?"
"Yep, I am. But my age doesn't get in my way when it comes to getting what I want." Then in a quick rejoinder, the pixie sitting next to me said, "Does that bother you, Gary?"
Gulping, I hastily replied with false bravado, "Bring it on, little girl, bring it on." With that uttered, I hastily shifted the subject working out a schedule for Lauren's private swim lessons and what she felt were the areas that needed the most attention. We finally agreed to one-hour late afternoon sessions on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I said that I'd clear it with the YMCA and that she should clear it with her father.
"Gary, I know my dad will hesitate because there are times when he'll have to work late or will be out of town on business. He begrudgingly picks me and my sister up after our swim session, but I don't know if he'd be willing to come back for me after our sessions. However, don't worry, I can tell him that I can catch the bus home..."
"Hey, I have a moped to get around. Why don't you ask him if I can give you a lift home on my moped since you live just up the valley? It would be a lot safer for a sixth-grader than catching the bus all by herself during the early evening hours. You'll have to get a helmet to wear...but...it's worth a try if you want. Ask him and let me know what he says.
"Okay that being said, I've seen you swim but I'll use the first session to critically assess you. From there we can work out a training program. However, since I'm planning on a mainland college once I graduate from high school, I've got to warn you that you've got only one year to work with me. Also, I've never coached someone before, but I'll try my best."
With those sparkling eyes and a captivating smile, Lauren said, "You mean you've got only one year. While you're gone, I'll have to work my butt off for three years to get in shape and become more competitive at the varsity level. I was thinking of maybe joining a private swim club...but regardless, we'll have to stay in touch so that I can keep you updated. If you return to Hawaii after college...and I hope you do...you'll be able to see me compete in my junior and senior years...and I know that you won't be disappointed."
"Wow! You've really thought things out! Are you sure you're eleven?"
At that, an indignant Lauren hopped up to stand before me. Then dropping the towel that she had wrapped around her wet one-piece swimsuit, she put her hands on her hips and point blankly stated, "Take a good look at me, Gary? I am barely four feet in height...got no boobs...just small bumps...got no hips...or butt for the matter...and you can take my word that I don't have any hair between my legs. For the last time, yes, I am eleven!"
When I threw my hands up to placate a rather pissed-off Lauren, she continued her rant, "I can't help it if I think and act more maturely. They do say that girls are more mentally mature than 'you' guys," snickered the diminutive pretty before me as she glared in me.
"Ouch! Touché! Okay, okay, I surrender and accept that you are a mentally mature eleven-year-old girl..." However, I couldn't resist quickly my own riposte by teasingly adding, "You know you are kind of cute when you're mad." The stunned look on Lauren's face was priceless, and I couldn't help but burst out in unrestrained laughter.
"Ooh, you're so mean," squealed Lauren as she lightly beat her tiny fists against my arm before breaking down in a fit of giggles.
~ ~ ~ ~
