Elliot sat on the porch of his family's gorgeous brick home, smoking a cigarette and flicking through the morning paper. He was a hard-working lawyer, around forty, taking some leave from his heavy caseload for the first time in years. His wife had gone on holidays with their children, leaving him to 'relax' at home. Elliot tipped back in his chair a little, his broad shoulders leaning back into the solid wood chair, and he looked out at the street, his face, with dark eyes and heavy eyebrows, brooding and unreadable.
Down the street tripped what looked like a little girl in a hurry, with red pigtails bouncing as she skipped along. Elliot watched. As the girl drew nearer, he realised it was Emma, his teenage daughter's best friend from Saint Aloysius, the exclusive school to which Elliot and his wife sent both their children. Emma, just turned 18, bounded up the steps and let out an 'Oh!' when she saw Elliot sitting there. Elliot looked up at Emma and concluded that she was the most beautiful little minx he had ever laid eyes on. She had perfectly pale skin with a spattering of tiny freckles across her nose, and her cheeks were a rosy pink from her hurrying. Her long red hair was caught into two pigtails, but her locks waved unruly out of the royal blue ribbons, which matched her little blazer and schoolgirl kilt. Her eyes were a startling green, large and framed with long lashes, and at the moment they looked a little teary and red.
"What can I do for you?" he asked gruffly, picking up his paper and moving toward the front door.
"Mr. Taylor... I.... I was just wondering....I didn't realise anyone would be home..." Emma replied, looking confused and a little lost, and she twirled the end of her plait around a little finger. Elliot softened a little.
"Child, is there something wrong?" he asked a little more softly. Emma burst into tears and folded into Elliot's arms. Elliot was taken aback but patted her shoulder, feeling the firmness of her high, round breast against his chest, and the girl's soft breath against his skin, and shuddered.
"I got sent home from school!" cried Emma. "I have to get changed and go back after lunch... They said my skirt was too short!" Elliot stepped back and looked at Emma's skirt, a tiny piece of tartan wrapped around young, toned little thighs with a gentle, sexy curve.
"It is very short. How on earth did your parents let you out of the house like this?"
"They don't care! I can wear what I like! I think it looks nice like this, anyhow!" Elliot smiled to himself: it certainly did look nice.
"Little girl, you can not just run wild like this. You're a young lady now and it's time you began to act like one," Elliot reprimanded sharply. Emma looked away, hanging her head and peeping out at Elliot through her red hair.
"I know, Mr. Taylor," said Emma meekly, but Elliot caught a little flash of desire in her green eyes.
