AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters depicted in this story are eighteen or older. Craig is a 45-year-old single man. He is blue-collar and has never been to college. Kim is 18 years old and has just completed high school. She lives with her parents and is attending community college this fall. The events depicted in this story begin during the summer after she graduates from high school.
[In Part One, Craig meets Kim at a party. Although he is significantly older, he becomes interested in her. Surprisingly she appears to be smitten with him. They text and develop a relationship. When Craig rescues Kim from a party, their relationship intensifies. Finally, after much pleading, Craig agrees to take Kim to Appleby's for a meal.}
Craig pulled up to the curb a block from Kim's house, the streetlamp's glow casting long shadows across the sidewalk. He checked the time and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing up the street toward her house. She'd insisted he pick her up here, "just in case," she'd said. He didn't argue--it wasn't his place to question her relationship with her parents--but it added to the low buzz of unease in his chest.
When he saw her walking toward the truck, his breath caught in his throat.
Kim wore jeans that hugged her body like they were painted on, every curve accentuated as if they'd been made just for her. Her top was fitted, the neckline dipping just enough to emphasize her breasts without being overt, but it was more than enough to knock the air out of Craig's lungs. Her long black hair swayed as she walked, and the small smile on her lips carried a mix of confidence and something else--something deliberate.
Craig shifted in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter. What the hell is she doing? he thought as she reached the passenger side and climbed in.
"Hey," she said, her voice bright and casual, as if she hadn't just left him speechless. "Thanks for picking me up."
Craig nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah. No problem."
As they drove to Applebee's, Craig tried to focus on the road, but it was impossible to ignore her presence beside him. She chatted easily, her tone light, her words a stream of anecdotes about school and friends, but all Craig could hear was the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. He didn't know if she was doing this on purpose or if she was just being Kim--confident, unfiltered, and utterly unaware of the effect she had on him.
When they arrived, he parked and led her inside, the familiar smell of grilled food and fried appetizers greeting them. They slid into a booth, Kim on one side and Craig on the other. He ordered a beer, hoping it would steady him, while she scanned the menu with enthusiasm.
Once their food arrived, Kim began talking again, this time about her past relationships.
"So there was this guy, Jason," she said, twirling her straw in her drink. "He was kind of my first serious boyfriend. We dated for, like, a month. He was sweet, but he didn't really know what he was doing, you know?" Craig nodded. "I just let him get under my shirt a couple of times. He made fun of my boobs." Craig choked on his drink.
Craig raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. He didn't know where this was going, but it didn't feel good.
"And then there was Derek," she continued, her tone breezy. "He was older. Not as old as you," she added quickly, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. "But older than me. He was... well, let's just say he knew what he was doing. I really learned to be a real grown-ass woman, if you know what I mean!"
Craig cleared his throat, setting his fork down. "Why are you telling me all this, Kim?"
She shrugged, her dark eyes meeting his across the table. "I just thought you should know... I've been around the block. I'm not some little girl who doesn't know what she wants or how to get it."
Craig leaned back, shaking his head as he exhaled slowly. "Kim," he began, his voice low, "you don't have to prove anything to me. You're..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You're fine just the way you are."
Kim smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She sipped her drink, her confidence flickering for a moment before she hid it behind another story about Derek.
Craig listened, nodding occasionally, but his mind was elsewhere. What the hell am I going to do about her? he wondered. She was like a storm--beautiful, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. And the worst part? He wasn't sure he wanted to.
The ride back to Kim's neighborhood was quiet, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension. Craig gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he focused on the road ahead. Kim sat beside him, her legs crossed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt. The confidence she'd carried at dinner seemed to have dulled, leaving behind something quieter, more uncertain.
When they approached her street, Kim leaned forward. "Can you stop here?" she asked, her voice soft.
Craig nodded, pulling over to the curb a few houses down from hers. He turned off the engine and glanced at her. "You good to get home?"
Kim didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned to him, her dark eyes locking onto his. Before he could say anything else, she leaned in, her lips pressing against his in a kiss that was sudden, warm, and insistent.
Craig froze, his breath catching as her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer. For a moment, he kissed her back, the sweetness of her lips mingling with the faint taste of soda. His hand brushed against her arm, her warmth sparking something deep and unsettling within him.
Then her hand moved. She reached down, her fingers finding the zipper of his jeans, her touch deliberate and confident. Craig's heart raced, a mixture of shock and something darker flooding his senses.
"Whoa--whoa," he said, pulling back abruptly and grabbing her wrist. "Kim, what the hell are you doing?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide and filled with something that might have been pride--or maybe desperation. "Taking care of my man," she said softly, her voice steady. "I know what I'm doing. The boys... they seemed to like it when I did it to them."
Craig stared at her, his mind racing. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, the weight of what she'd said crashing down on him. She wasn't just a teenager trying to navigate her feelings--this was something else entirely, something she didn't fully understand.
"Kim," he said, his voice low and firm, "this isn't... You can't just... No."
Her lip quivered, and for a moment, she looked like the shy, vulnerable girl he'd met at the party. "I thought you wanted me," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Craig let out a sharp breath, releasing her wrist gently but keeping his distance. "You need to go," he said, his tone softer now. "Go home, Kim."
Tears welled in her eyes as she grabbed the door handle. She hesitated, looking back at him one last time. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible before she slipped out of the truck and shut the door behind her.
Craig watched her walk up the street, her small frame disappearing into the night. His hands clenched the steering wheel as he sat there, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do about Kim, but he knew one thing for certain: this couldn't happen but in his mind, he wondered if he wanted it.
Craig couldn't stop thinking about Kim. Her words, her touch, the tears in her eyes as she walked away--it all played on a loop in his head, no matter how much he tried to shake it off. She'd stirred something in him, something he wasn't proud of, and he needed to get his head straight. Sitting in his quiet house wasn't helping, so he decided to call up Sandy.
Sandy was someone Craig had seen off and on over the years. She wasn't his age, but she wasn't a teenager either--solidly in her mid-20s, independent, and always up for a good time. She was easy to talk to, and easy to be around, and right now, Craig figured she might be exactly what he needed.
When Sandy stepped out of her apartment, Craig's mind jolted.
She was dressed for a hot night out, and she owned it. Her short, fitted black dress clung to her curves, the fabric shimmering faintly under the streetlights. The neckline plunged just enough to catch the eye, but not so much as to lose its allure. Her legs seemed endless, accentuated by strappy heels that added inches to her already confident posture. Her long auburn hair was styled in loose waves, cascading over her shoulders, and her makeup was bold--red lips, smoky eyes, and a touch of blush that gave her cheekbones a sharp, striking edge.
Sandy walked with a sway in her hips, her presence commanding without trying too hard. She carried a small clutch in one hand, her nails painted the same deep red as her lips, and when she slid into the passenger seat of Craig's truck, her perfume--a mix of vanilla and something spicier--filled the cab.
"Well, don't you clean up nice," she said with a playful grin, her voice low and sultry. She crossed her legs, the slit in her dress revealing just enough to make Craig's pulse quicken.
Craig chuckled, shaking his head as he put the truck in gear. "Could say the same about you. You look... ready for trouble."
Sandy laughed, a rich, throaty sound that seemed to ease the tension in Craig's shoulders. "You know me, Craig. Trouble's my middle name."
As they drove, Craig stole a glance at her, trying to focus on the road but finding it impossible not to notice the way she carried herself--the ease, the confidence, the sheer womanliness of her. Sandy was no girl. She was grown, and she knew exactly what she wanted out of the night.
The night had been a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and teasing banter. Sandy was as lively as ever, her wit sharp and her energy infectious. Craig found himself loosening up more with every drink, the tension that had gripped him for days finally beginning to melt away. By the time they stumbled back to her apartment, the world outside had faded, leaving only the two of them.
Craig had barely made it through the door of Sandy's apartment before she pulled him close, her lips crashing into his with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. Her dress was on the floor within seconds, her bare skin warm against him as they stumbled into the bedroom. He let her guide him, her confidence and ease a stark contrast to the storm raging in his head.
In the dim light of the room, Sandy was stunning. Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she pulled him onto the bed. Craig hovered over her, his rough hands tracing the curve of her hips, his mind struggling to stay in the moment. She arched beneath him, her body responding eagerly to his touch, her laughter bubbling up as she whispered playful teases into his ear.
