Janine 13

Janine; I had known her since she was a young teenager, just before I left teaching. She wasn't the brightest girl, or the prettiest, but she was honest, polite and seemed to enjoy my classes. Quiet, too, with an air about her that made her seem older than her years. After I moved on from my teaching job, I saw her around the community occasionally but there was no interaction beyond a smile or the odd 'hello'. Now, here she was, sitting opposite me in Costa Coffee, all grown up.

Actually, she didn't seem to have grown that much -- I'd say she was no more than 5' 1" or maybe 5' 2". She was still very, very slim, and wore her hair in the same long ponytail that I remembered. There was no evidence of a curvy figure, but at my age I had no right to be looking for one, so I decided to avoid being caught 'checking her out'.

I'd been in Costa for about two hours, working on my new book, when Janine appeared. I'd seen her there before but she'd always been with someone else -- usually people of her own age but sometimes with an older woman who I took to be her mum. Older? I laughed internally. Mum, if that's who she was, might have been forty; now I definitely feel old. Today, however, Janine was on her own. She'd ordered at the counter and then, to my surprise, brought her coffee to my table.

"Do you mind if I join you for a few minutes?"

"Of course not. How are you getting along?"

We made polite conversation. She told me about her job with a prestigious local hotel company. She asked what I'd been doing in the ten years since I left the school. She enquired about my wife and sympathised when I explained what had happened. She told me that she was still single -- no husband or boyfriend, no children.

"Husband? Children?" I said, with a little laugh. "I reckon you have plenty of time to think about husbands and children."

"Well, I'm twenty-two now. Mum was eighteen when I was born."

I let that hang in the air. If Mum was who I thought she was, she worked in one of the local pubs and she really did have curves. I'd sat at the bar and tried not to be caught ogling on more than one occasion. Janine waited to see if I would say something, but after a few seconds she continued.

"Dad's a fair bit older, of course. Nearly seventy now."

"Really?"

"Yes, he was mum's teacher. I reckon he'd get into trouble if it was now, but in those days apparently no-one noticed. They got together around about the time she left school and I came along soon after." I remained silent. "Were there any girls you fancied at school when you were teaching?"

"More than my life was worth," I said, truthfully. "For one thing, I was happily married to another teacher at the same school. For another thing, I'd have lost my career."

"But you left anyway."

"Yes, to go and train new teachers." Part of that, I reflected, involved explaining to young men and women about not getting involved with their students.

"I was really sad when you left. I used to like your lessons."

"That's nice to hear."

"I had a bit of a crush on you too."

That really did make me laugh, and one or two heads turned.

"Now you're definitely winding me up. There must have been younger, fitter teachers that you could have had a crush on before you got around to me."

"Younger, yes. Fitter, probably... but they had all those Year 11 airheads with impossibly big tits swarming around them. I liked you because of the way you treated people, not because of how you looked. You didn't seem to be perving over girls with big tits all the time for a start."

I could feel myself blushing -- thankfully, she couldn't read my thoughts about her mother -- so I decided to make a joke of it, and laughed.

"Well, I was properly trained -- no staring."

"Doesn't worry me -- I have nothing to stare at."

I said nothing, but still fell into the trap of looking down at Janine's chest. She was wearing a loose cotton blouse with buttons all the way down and, sure enough, there was no real evidence of a bust. I quickly looked up again. She was smiling.

"Right," she said, suddenly, "I must get on. I might come back in an hour or so. Will you still be here?"

"Probably."

"Ok. See you later then."

I sat in silence for a few minutes after she left. What was that all about? Pull yourself together you old fool, said a voice in my head -- you're forty years older than her for a start. She was just being polite and looking for someone to talk to. I ordered another flat white and got on with my work.

"Hello," said a now-familiar voice. "I'm back." Janine sat down opposite me and put a coffee cup on the table. "Did you miss me?"

"I've been a bit engrossed in my work," I replied, and it was true, but I smiled to let her know I was joking.

"I've been shopping. I bought a new top. Do you like it?" She struck a pose.

Oh, dear Lord! The new top was a denim crop top with six buttons. It was quite tight around her bosom -- for now I could see that she definitely had bosoms, albeit very small ones -- and exposed her midriff, which meant that I could now see a belly-button piercing, with a green gemstone of some kind. I forced myself to look up. Her eyes were twinkling. They, I noticed, were also green.

"It's ok," she said, "You are allowed to look. I'm twenty-one and you're not a teacher any more."

"I am, however, old enough to be your grandfather. I'll be sixty-two next birthday."

"Younger than my dad then."

"Not the point."

"You're missing the point. I want you to look. I always wanted you to look but I was just too young before, and you were married. Now things have changed."

"Other people probably wouldn't see it that way."

"Who cares what other people think? I certainly don't. My mum's always said I should be happy about who I am with not about what they are, and my dad, well, he's got dementia and half the time he doesn't even know who I am." Her smile faded for a moment, and then she added, "Fortunately."

"That's sad," I said, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. "My wife was going that way when she died, but fortunately it never got to the stage where she didn't know anyone." Janine was not to be put off. She waited a moment, maybe because she thought I was going to carry on, and then took a deep breath.

"Look, are you busy this afternoon? It's a lovely sunny day and I really fancy a walk in the country and maybe an afternoon tea somewhere nice and quiet. Come with me, please?"

I looked at my watch. It was only twelve-thirty and I'd been in the café since before eight. I had done quite a lot of work, so... yes, I could afford an afternoon off. A walk in the country wouldn't do me any harm.

"Alright," I said, looking her in the eye, "But remember that I'm an old man, eh? A fat old man, to make matters worse. Treat me gently." Her eyes sparkled back at me and she smiled.

"Always."

We finished our drinks, and then I packed up my laptop and walked out to my car. Janine followed me over and waited while I put the laptop bag on the back seat. For the first time I noticed the rest of her attire. Aside from the crop top, she was wearing a mid-length denim skirt and some white trainers. Her skin was very pale, all the more noticeably because of her long, jet-black hair, and I wondered about sun-screen.

"Do you mind driving? Mum may need the car."

"No," I said, "That's fine. How do we do this?"

"I'll drive home and drop the keys in... meet you at the bus stop across from the library in about fifteen minutes?"

"Ok. See you there."

I had some misgivings at this point, obviously, but I was enjoying Janine's company and she was right: there was no real reason why we shouldn't spend the afternoon together.

"Make sure you put some sun-screen on," I called, as she climbed into her car, but she gave no indication of having heard. A couple of minutes after she left, I started the car and headed home for a change of shoes, having plenty of time to do that and still be at the appointed place within fifteen minutes.

I pulled up in the bus stop lay-by, as instructed, and sat with the engine running, feeling a little guilty about the carbon emissions but wanting to be able to get out of the way in a hurry if a bus arrived. A couple of minutes passed and the car door opened, and a pair of pale, twenty-two-year-old legs appeared. Janine settled into the passenger seat and fastened her seat-belt, then placed her trainer-clad feet up on the dashboard. This caused her skirt to fall back down her raised thighs, giving me a view of her legs which I attempted, but failed, to ignore.

"Thank-you so much for this. I really need to get out of town and into the fresh air."

"Anywhere in mind?"

"Somewhere with a river and a café."

"Ok. I think I know the very place."

The journey took about thirty minutes, during which time she chattered away, as though we did this every day, about nothing in particular. We parked in a public car park near a local beauty spot which I knew very well -- it had been a favourite place for my wife and I to walk and talk.

"I've never been here before," she said, "What's it like?"

"You'll see in a few minutes," I replied. "I think you'll like it. There's a lovely river walk and about a mile downstream there's a really nice café with a garden."

"Do they serve scones?"

"They do."

"Perfect."

I covered my laptop bag with a coat and locked the car, and we set off down to the river. Despite her age, Janine walked in that hoppy-skippy way that teenaged girls do, and I struggled to keep up for the first few minutes, but she was so obviously happy that I didn't want to spoil the mood, so I said nothing. When we arrived at the river there was a stile to be crossed and she waited for me.

"Over the stile and turn left," I called, but she didn't move until I arrived. She swung a rather lovely leg over the stile and turned back, taking one of my hands in hers as I stepped up, and holding on as I climbed over. I let her help me over the rail and thought she would let go, but actually what she did was interlace her fingers into mine and hold tighter. We walked, hand in hand, along the riverbank. I won't deny it -- it made me feel as though I was twenty-two again, but as I admitted that to myself I realised what a fool I must be. We walked for the next ten minutes or so in silence and then, at a bend in the river, came to a weeping willow tree whose branches made an almost perfect canopy reaching down to the ground. Janine let go of my hand and darted inside. I didn't dare follow.

"I thought you wanted tea," I called, "Or are we playing hide and seek?"

"I don't want to hide from you," Janine said, as she reappeared from under the tree. "I'd let you find me every time." She took my hand again. "And I do want tea." We started walking again. "We're coming back here though, after." I decided that the safest reply was silence.

We arrived at the café, after about another fifteen minutes of walking. We ordered cream tea for two and found a table outside in the sunshine, where we sat and waited patiently for the server. I noticed at this point that Janine's crop top was coming undone -- one button at the top and one at the bottom -- and wondered whether this was deliberate. I dragged my gaze back up to her face and found her smiling again. I was about to say something when the server arrived with our tray, giving me a slightly odd look which I did my best to ignore. When she was out of earshot I leaned across the table.

"I don't think she approves." I said this very quietly.

"I don't care whether she approves or not." Janine did not attempt to be quiet, but there was no sign that any of the other three customers heard. "She probably just thinks you're my dad."

"Grandad, more likely."

"Well, let her think what she likes."

"Maybe you should button that top properly."

"Why? I was hoping you'd enjoy the view." Those green eyes were sparkling again.

"I am trying to be a gentleman."

Janine reached up and quite deliberately undid the second button from the top. Three of the six buttons were now undone, and I knew that I was undone too. I was becoming lost to this enthralling young woman who seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and how to get it. I poured the tea.

We spent the next half hour eating scones, drinking tea and somehow just chatting without any sexual undercurrent. To my surprise, she insisted on going to the counter and paying the bill, saying that it was only fair since we were travelling in my car. When she got back to the table, I realised that her top was now held tantalisingly closed by just one button. Her face wore an expression of the utmost mischief and I just rolled my eyes. We set off back up the riverbank. As we left the café I could feel several pairs of eyes boring holes into the back of my head. Janine seemed neither to notice nor care.

We were about five minutes further up the path when we came to a bench seat. Janine stopped by it, and turned to me.

"Can we sit here for a while. I need to tell you something."

"Ok." I genuinely had no idea what was going on, other than the fact that I had been teased to a point of reckless abandon: whatever she was about to ask me, I would say yes, even though I could see disaster looming.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she said, "And I need to tell you some of it."

"You don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to," I said, immediately.

"I do though. You think I'm an innocent young girl and you're worried that you're turning into a dirty old man. You're worried that you're taking advantage of me. And none of that is true." She paused and took a deep breath, and I found myself unable to speak. She continued, "When I was twelve and you were my teacher I thought you were such a lovely person. I always felt safe with you. You always treated everyone so kindly. I nearly told you everything then, but deep inside I wanted you to want me, and I thought you wouldn't if you knew the truth."

"When you were twelve?" I said, wondering what on earth she was trying to say. Janine was actually biting her lip, nervously.

"Twelve, yes. You see, I was already sexually active when I was twelve. I didn't want to be. It wasn't my idea, see? People, er, used me." To say that I was stunned would be a massive understatement, and I was wracking my brains about whether or not I was still bound by safeguarding rules.

"Janine," I said, "Did you ever tell anyone?"

"No," she said, "Never. And I never would, because I love my mum and dad. And you must never tell either. Please. Promise. But I needed to tell you." A tear escaped her left eye and trickled down her cheek. "I'll tell you more later, if you want me to, but I just needed to tell you that."

"Ok," I said, not quite sure what to say next.

"Please say you won't tell anyone else."

"Ok," I said again, thinking as rapidly as I could. "I will say nothing provided I am sure you aren't still at risk."

"I'm not at risk now," said Janine. "It stopped happening when I was sixteen -- I'll explain why later -- and it won't happen again. But now I've found you and I want you to make me feel safe again."

"Of course," I said, automatically, but realised immediately that I didn't understand what she meant. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to love me."

"Janine," I said, louder than I intended, "You need someone your own age to love you. I am forty years too old."

"But I don't want someone my own age. I feel safe with you. I trust you. You'll treat me with respect. So, please, just give in and do what I ask. We can be so good for each other. Please, I want this so much." With those last words, she unbuttoned the last button and the crop top fell open, exposing her little breasts. I couldn't speak. My immediate reaction was to check whether anyone else could see, but there was no-one else to be seen. "They're not big like my mum's," said Janine. "You know my mum, she works at the Crown and Anchor. I bet you've noticed her tits -- she puts them on display often enough. Mine are hardly even there."

"They're beautiful," I said, and it was true. Janine's breasts were small, pointy, cone-shaped and pale, with large dark nipples that seemed to be crying out for my touch. "They're so beautiful. But you can find someone so much better than me."

"I don't want anyone else. I want you. I want you to touch me, hold me, make me feel safe. Now. It's all I ever wanted."

"Since you were twelve."

"Yes, and when I was twelve it would have been wrong. But now I am not twelve and it isn't wrong." You're still trying to be a gentleman -- still trying to be my teacher -- I want you to be my friend. My lover."

"Well," I said, unable to take my eyes from her exquisite little tits, "You're not making it easy for me to be a gentleman. You should be careful what you wish for."

"I wish you'd take me back to that lovely tree," she said, taking my hand, and that was when I gave in and kissed her.

We kissed for what seemed like an age, during which time one of my hands found one of her breasts, and one of her hands found my cock which, by now, was attempting to burst out of my trousers. Finally, we stopped kissing and walked back to the weeping willow. She led me by the hand, under the tree, where we were shielded from any prying eyes.

"Remember," she said, "I am not a virgin." She unbuckled my trousers and pushed down trousers and shorts in one move. I silently thanked myself for having started the day with a bath. "There are so many things I want us to do, but there will be time for that. Right now I need you inside me." She had her skirt up round her waist now, and was pushing her knickers down. "I need you to promise me though."

"Anything." Anything? Did I really mean that?

"Every time I've had sex, it was forced upon me. By people I didn't want. It was usually rough, and sometimes painful. And they always wore condoms -- that was the rule."

"Go on."

"I want you to make love to me, because I choose that you do. I want to feel your skin, not a piece of latex." She pushed me back against the tree and gently forced me down so that I was sitting on the ground.

"Ok."

"And I want you to cum inside me. No questions now -- we'll talk about it later." Now she straddled me, holding her pussy just above the head of my cock.

"Ok," I said again, though a little more nervously.

"And I want you to keep on loving me, and making love to me, for ever and ever."

"I'll do my best." Even as I said this, I was wondering what it meant. There would be consequences, but what would they be?

"And one last thing." She sank down, impaled on my cock. I knew I wouldn't last long.

"Yes." She started to move up and down.

"It's the first time I've done this when it wasn't rape. So... treat me gently." She kissed me again, still moving slowly up and down my cock.

"Always," I replied.