Alan smiled as he went with his parents to visit the Morgan's. The fact that he was already bored out of his skull was hidden under that well practiced smile. The only bright spot he had to look forward to was that his pious parents and the holier-than-thou Morgan's would fob him off into Clare's care.
He liked Clare. She was smart, even if a little naïve. OK. Even if she was hellishly naïve. Her parents fault, of course. They controlled every aspect of her life, never giving her the slightest leeway. She'd even been home schooled.
Being a boy, he'd been able to give his own parents the slip occasionally, not that they'd ever noticed. They always assumed that once he went to bed for the night, he stayed there. This assumption had proved false on more than one occasion.
It was ridiculous that his parents could expect him to live a holy, pious and celibate life just because that's what they fancied for him. He was eighteen, damn-it. Legally an adult. He had a job and paid taxes and he had no intention of becoming a priest.
As for Clare and her parents intentions for her. She was now eighteen, as well. He'd have to put a flea in her ear or she'd find herself shipped off to a convent to become a nun. What a fate for a lovely young woman like her.
Arriving at the Morgan's place Alan stayed quietly in the background as his parents and the Morgan's greeted each other. He could see Clare doing the same, wearing one of the most god-awful dresses he'd ever seen. Undoubtedly made for her by her mother.
After Alan's parents and the Morgan's had finished their greetings, he and Clare were dragged forward to be patted on the head and admired. And then chased off so that the adults could talk.
"Take Alan up to your room, Clare," said Mrs Morgan. "He can go over your homework with you and correct any errors. He's quite clever you know. Remember to leave your door open, though."
"Yes, Mother," said Clare quietly, leaving the room, Alan trailing along behind.
"Look at them," they heard one of the adults say. "Two complete innocents, knowing nothing of the nastiness of the world."
Reaching her room, Clare flung herself inside and dropped onto a chair.
"Don't sit there," she snapped, as Alan went to sit on the bed. "The springs are set up to squeak if you sit or lie on the bed and my mother would be up here like a shot to see why we're on the bed."
"Must be rough trying to sleep in a squeaky bed," said Alan with a laugh, turning to sit on the other chair.
"I've got used to it," sighed Clare. "I don't even notice it. But if I sit on the bed during the day, mum's up here like a shot, deploring my laziness and finding me something to do. The open door isn't so that they can look in. It's to let them hear if the bed squeaks."
"It's not funny," she snapped, glaring at Alan's laughing face. "I get so mad at times. You heard what they called us when we left. 'The Innocents', as though we were a couple of strange creatures. Doesn't that sort of thing infuriate you?"
"Not me," said Alan. "Long may it continue. While they think of me that way it means they have no idea of what I get up to in my private life."
"Private life. What's that?" said Clare bitterly, "and how do you get one?"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I developed mine by sneaking out of the house after bedtime, starting about five years ago," said Alan. "I haven't been caught out yet or there's no way I'd be allowed to be here alone with you. They'd be afraid I'd contaminate you with talk about sex and things like that. Forbidden subjects."
"I could probably surprise them," grumbled Clare. "Even with the rigid controls they put on the TV and the internet you can still get quite a bit of information if you're careful. And keep your history cleared up," she added with a smirk.
"Clare, you're full of it. You wouldn't even know what a man's privates looked like."
"Really," said Clare, smiling sweetly. "Then why don't you show me, Mr Know-it-all."
"See. You're still a total innocent talking to a man-of-the-world," jeered Alan. "Next you'll be saying I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"That seems reasonable to me," said Clare, her smile not faltering. "Is Mr Man-of-the-world game to show me his?"
"Oh, I'm game, but I doubt you are. Because you're a woman you'd have to show me your boobs as well, which means that you'd have to effectively get undressed. All I need to do is unzip."
"Why would I have to show my breasts as well?" demanded Clare.
"Because, little Miss Innocent, men like to look at women's breasts and to touch them, and a real woman likes her man to touch her breasts. Do you know anything at all about sex?"
"Um, not really," confessed Clare. "That's why I hoped I could get you to explain a few things to me today. I thought showing me your thing would be a start."
"Let's see how serious you are about this. You take off your panties and lift up your dress to show me what you've got and we'll take it from there."
To Alan's surprise, Clare did just that. While he watched she lifted her dress and pulled off a pair of granny-pants. Then she hitched her dress up around her waist, blushing slightly, but determined.
Alan's gaze ran up her long slender and very shapely legs to where the cleft of her sex showed. He nodded slowly in appreciation.
"Very nice," he said. "If you'll pardon me for asking, I notice that you shave."
"Mother says that it shows that I'm still a child," she said. "She says if I ever get married I won't need to bother."
