Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults eighteen years of age or older. While the story line is true the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early seventies, but by the early nineties safe sex became an absolute necessity and continues to be so today.
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It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Tampa and I spent the morning running errands. I had one more errand on my agenda then I would be free to ride over to Clearwater Beach and spend some time on the beach checking out the hot, bikini-clad, bodies like any fifty-year old bachelor would do. In the early nineties, forty and fifty-year old women were in competition with the twenty-year olds to see how much they could stuff into a tiny bikini. Bikini tops only covered the nipples and bottoms only covered the pubic mound and were little more than a G-string.
It was a little after eleven when I pulled into the parking lot of my insurance agent who had insured my home, cars, and my life ever since my divorce twenty years earlier; it was not unusual for me to stop by for a chat and coffee. While I did need to conduct some business there I also had other things on my mind. I chose Saturdays to conduct my insurance business for two reasons; one, Tommy, my agent always took Saturdays off and two, Arlene, his forties something "office assistant", was there to run things alone. Arlene was a very attractive, Yankee transplant who had married a drunk that did not take care of her needs.
For several years I would stop by from time to time, about the same time, for coffee and some chatting, most often about her drunken husband and the fact that she was not getting "any" at home. At noon she would close the office and pull her car around back and we would spend an hour or so in the break room or one of the offices fucking.
This day, however, was very different; the office was completely changed. There were no stacks of files on the file cabinets, the reception's desk was not cluttered, and there were several potted ferns and plants located around the room.
The door chime announced my arrival and a moment later a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, walked in from a back room, "Good morning, I'm Mica, may I help you?"
I managed to get out, "I'm Will. I just stopped by to have a cup of coffee with Arlene and to sign some papers."
"Oh yes, Arlene told me you might stop by. I have the papers right here." she said as she walked to one of the file cabinets. "Arlene asked me to tell you that she has moved away for awhile. She said you would know why."
I did know why and I wondered what took her so long to leave the drunken son-of-a-bitch. I looked Mica up and down as she looked for my file. She was cute but her style of dress was completely country bumpkin. She was fresh scrubbed and wore no make-up; her eyebrows weren't even plucked. Her auburn hair was braided and piled on top of her head. Luckily she had a pretty face and a very nice smile that showed her cute dimples. A lot of guys would pass her by without a second look, but I decided there might me a gem hidden there.
Her homemade, white, cotton blouse was long sleeved and was buttoned all the way to the neck; it did not give the slightest hint as to what might be underneath. The light blue, cotton skirt she wore was a size too big and hemmed well below the knee; her exposed lower legs were unshaven. I immediately began to wonder about her under arms too; I had gotten used to unshaven women when I was stationed in Germany in the sixties and really didn't mind it. She wore saddle oxford shoes to finish off her completely lack-of-style outfit. I have always preferred older, more mature women and it had been some time since I had been out with someone as young as thirty; I couldn't even remember one this young holding my attention since I was in high school.
She stood close beside me as she explained the purpose of each document and where I needed to sign; I could smell the scent of the dial soap she had used to bathe that morning. She left the room as I was reading and signing the papers then returned with coffee.
"Arlene said you take your coffee black." She said as she set the mug on the desk.
After signing the papers, I leaned back in my chair and sipped my coffee as Mica sorted through the papers giving me copies of each document. I complimented her about her organization of the office and how much better it looked.
"Thank you. My Daddy was a very strict disciplinarian and taught me the value of hard work and organization."
I replied, "He certainly did an excellent job. I wish I could teach that lesson to my high school students. What was his secret?"
She blushed a bit before answering, "It sometimes took a spanking to remind me of my duties."
My eyes lit up and my heart skipped a beat as an imagine of her bent over her my, . . ah, her Daddy's, knees with her dress up and her bare bottom pink from the contact of a firm hand passed through my mind; I felt a twitch in my shorts that brought my mind back to reality.
"I'm sure it was done out of love," I commented, unable to think of anything else.
She told me about the death of her mother when she was only nine and how her Daddy struggled to raise her and raise her "right". While she never mentioned it I was certain that she was "Daddy's little girl" in every sense of the word. At noon, Mica announced that she needed to close the office so she could catch the last bus home. I helped her close the office and set the alarm as I had done many times for Arlene. The difference was, this time we would not pull her car behind the office.
As we walked out the door I asked, "Why don't you let me give you a lift home so you won't have to waste your time riding the bus?"
She thought about the long ride downtown to transfer to the bus to take her home as compared to the fifteen-minute ride I offered. I assured her it would not be a problem for me and that I would enjoy getting to know more about her.
She smiled then said, "Okay, if it isn't too much trouble, but you have to let me fix you lunch." Then she added, "You remind me a lot of my Daddy; he was maybe a little taller but had the same kind eyes and gray hair."
"Ouch" she didn't have to mention my gray hair
She only lived a few miles from the office in an early, turn of the century, wooden, hurricane house with screened-in, wrap around porches set in a grove of Spanish moss, covered oak trees. The house was due for a paint job, but otherwise it was well kept; the lawn was well manicured and there was a beautiful vegetable garden at the back of the house. She had to walk a quarter of a mile to catch the bus to and from work.
When we pulled up in front she said, "Come in and have lunch with me? I have a left over peach cobbler I made last night."
Of course I did not have to think twice about the invitation; it was as if she knew exactly what my two greatest weaknesses were, pretty girls and peach cobbler. Like the office, she kept her house in the same exceptionally clean and well organized condition even though it was full of antique furniture and nick-nacks sitting about.
She led me straight through the front of the house into the kitchen where I sat at the kitchen table while she began to fix lunch. I didn't bother to ask for anything else when she poured lemonade into my glass; I was sure there was nothing stronger. She soon had leftovers warming in the oven of an old wood stove then she sat down with a glass of lemonade to talk while they warmed.
"My Daddy was an engineer at McDill Air Force Base; he designed many of their communications systems."
After more information about her Daddy I just had to ask.
"What kinds of things did your Daddy have to spank you for doing?" I asked.
"When I was little, it was the usual things like not wanting to clean my room or playing instead of doing my homework." She admitted, and then added, "When I got older I was a bit boy crazy and my daddy did not like boys coming around the house when he was at work."
During lunch she told me more about growing up with just a father and having to find out about becoming a woman from him. She was very forth coming and didn't hesitate about mentioning her sexual education from her Daddy.
"My first period caught us both by surprise; he immediately took me to the drug store and asked a lady working there what we needed. The next day he came home from work with his notebook full of notes on the subject and held class for me. My Daddy took everything literally, could never give you the simple answer to a question; he always gave a complete explanation, often with notes and sketches." Almost teary eyed she continued, "We had a very close and special relationship; we did "everything" together. He was a wonderful man; I miss that special relationship."
Once lunch was over we washed the dishes together; she seemed completely at ease being close to me, even casually touching as we put up the dishes. Afterwards, Mica showed me around the old house telling me stories about what it was like growing up in it. She had moved into her Daddy's bedroom after he passed away just to feel closer to him; we ended up in the living room where she directed me to an overstuffed, well used chair.
"Sit here; this was my Daddy's favorite chair. I often sat on his lap when he got home from work to tell him about my day," She paused then added with a smile, "and if I had been a good girl or not."
"It takes a strong character to confess doing wrong when you know you will get punished. I admire a young woman like that."
"Well, I always felt better after I was punished for doing wrong; even when I hadn't done wrong," she said with a somewhat devious smile.
I took a seat in the overstuffed chair then without a thought I patted my lap and said, "Then you must sit on my lap too."
Without hesitation she raised her arms above her head and removed several pins from her braids then ran her fingers through them; her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders. She smoothed her long skirt over her bottom as if to protect it and sat across my lap; she wiggled her bottom in my lap to get comfortable then placed her hands together in her lap.
