******
*Author's Note*
The sixth part. Remember,
all
comments, graciously accepted!
Enjoy!
******
About an hour after Regina goes home, I call Butch and together, we sit on the front porch, and watch people go by. He's amazing in that he never leaves the yard, unless I tell him to. Less than a minute after I sit down, Butch's head comes up, I hear a noise behind me, and when the dog starts wagging his tail, I'm pretty sure I know what's up.
Sure enough, seconds later, Polly appears in front of me. She's wearing a very short, pleated skirt, and a matching crop top, both of which are covered with colorful images of crayons and felt pens - which totally fit the childish image, she always seems to portray.
She stands silent and motionless, until I acknowledge her presence.
"Good evening, Polly."
"I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted."
"Just like that?"
"Yep. I don't waste time being angry. I have other stuff to do."
She thinks about it for a second, then steps up onto the porch, and sits Indian style, her very cool pink Nikes pulled up under her.
"I guess I just slipped into character," she offers.
"Yeah. A hot-headed, immature, bratty teenager," I reply, smiling at her.
"Yeah... I guess."
"Why do you fight that part of yourself so damn hard?"
"Because I don't want to be 'sweet and innocent'. I want to be like everyone else."
"I actually like the 'sweet, innocent', Polly."
"Why?"
"Hell... look at you. Awesome kid-style graphic skirt, very cool matching top, glittery pink sneakers, and of course, those amazing crayon-covered, matching panties..."
The girl goes almost pale.
"OMG..." she blurts out, pulling her skirt down a little.
"Why bother, I've already seen them.
Everything
about you says
sweet and innocent
, Polly - your bright red hair, your pigtails, even those amazing big blue eyes. Sometimes, it seems as though you don't want to grow up - like you want people to think you're a kid. You simply don't behave like someone who is an 'adult'. I find myself wondering if it's who you really are, or perhaps just a little game you like to play. If 'sweet and innocent' isn't the image you want to portray, you really need to work on your appearance,
and
your behavior. You should try just being Polly some time."
"Why did you look?" she asks, a little smirk covering her face.
"Look?"
"At my panties..."
"Because we both know you did it purposely - you just didn't expect me to say anything. Why else would you sit Indian style in a skirt that short?"
The kid gives me the most devious smile, confirming my assumption that she is taunting me for some reason.
"Besides," I add, maintaining eye contact with her, "I
have
seen a lot more of you...
"A lot more of me?" she asks, trying her best not to laugh.
"Pool? Your backyard? An
awesome
pink string bikini? Ringing any bells?"
She laughs.
"You've seen me in my bikini?"
"More than once. Your sister, mother, and Regina look pretty damn good in theirs as well."
"I let Regina borrow the black one..."
"I though as much."
"Why?"
"It's really too small for her. I'm thinking she is at least 36D, and her waist is a good bit bigger than yours as well. But it was kind of entertaining watching her and Meghan try to bust out of the silly things."
"Meghan's is too small, on purpose."
"I kinda figured that too. For the record, your mother is actually pretty damn hot for being as old as she is, and having given birth twice."
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Would you hook-up with her?"
"Already did," I reply, just to see how she reacts.
"Figures. What was it like?"
"You want to know what sex with your mother is like?"
"Sorry... that was kinda weird, I guess. I'm just so used to hearing how great this girl is, or how amazing that girl is - and I'm seriously tired of hearing James and David tell Meghan what an 'incredible fuck' she is."
"So, do you want to get your name on the 'incredible fuck' list?"
She breaks up laughing at the question. I find I'm fascinated with how totally comfortable the kid seems to be with the conversation, but realize that just like the underwear thing, it's just a game to her.
"I'm a virgin. Seems to me, you gotta have a good bit of experience, to get on that list."
"Is there something wrong with being a virgin?"
"I dunno. I guess not. Thing is, everyone at school knows I am. Boys either avoid me because I won't give it up, or they go all crazy trying to convince me they are the one that should get to take my virginity."
I break up laughing, almost hysterically - I can't help it.
"You are totally amazing, in your own messed-up little way, Miss Polly."
"I'm not sure what that means, but okay."
"It means you need to grow up and embrace the flirty little brat who made sure I saw her panties, but also hang on to sweet and innocent - just in case."
"If you didn't know me, and I sorta flirted with you, would you ever try to talk me into something, I shouldn't do?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Because, young lady, you don't look even close to your age. You'll have to blame that on genetics. While some of your high school friends might not care, I do. If you spoke to me in a public environment, and I didn't know you, the first words out of my mouth would be
'where's your mother?'
.
"You suck..."
"I know. Do you remember our first conversation on the subject of age?"
She gives me a dirty look and mumbles,
"yeah..."
"I guessed you were fifteen."
"
I remember...
" Again, I get the glare. "You kind of pissed me off..."
"You're just too damn cute, I swear."
"I wish I looked like Meghan - or even like Regina."
"I'm still confused - big boobs don't make you look older. In your case, they would just make you look like a kid - with big boobs. There's way more to 'being older' than the size of your boobs, Polly."
"So... you
have
noticed that I have small boobs?"
"Well... having seen you in the bikini, I'd guess 34, and
maybe
a C?"
"32B actually."
"Well, they are more than sufficient for your body."
"Yeah, but they aren't very sexy."
"Why," I ask, trying not to laugh again, "are you so damn fixated on sex, and sexy?"
She shrugs, and leans back, and puts her hands on the porch behind her, once again making her skirt hike up.
I shake my head, stand up, and look at her.
"Nice try kid... not gonna work. I've seen far too many pairs of women's underwear. You want something to drink?"
I get a heavy sigh from her, and as she stands up, she says, "I guess..."
******
After Polly and I make peace, I end up taking a break from my life. Butch and I bail to the cabin for a couple of weeks, between visits to the shrink. I do nothing, except sit on the porch, drink iced tea, and read a lot.
It takes eight days for my nemesis to once again, intrude into my life - in the form of a text message...
'where r u?'