I'd like to thank my editor drbob80 for his input and leftylooo and lancerinLA for their thoughts. They all helped in shaping the final version of this story.
The story takes a little while to get to the sex, so please be patient. I believe it's worth the wait.
*******************
My husband, Alex, and I had Katarina "prematurely" about five and a half months after we got married. The day we got married was one week after we graduated from high school and two months before my eighteenth birthday. We named Katarina after Alex's grandmother. Grandma Katarina passed away just before our Katarina was born and Alex missed her very much.
Alex's dreams of being an aerospace engineer were gone when I got pregnant and we got married. Alex's brother-in-law got him a job in construction and he never looked back. He never had any regrets and the college prep classes that he took in high school actually served him well. He excelled at his job and soon earned more responsibility and in turn, more money.
One of the nicest things about the construction industry is that most employers really don't care about your educational background as long as you understand the job and can get it done. Alex understood very well and always got the job done properly and within budget. The result of his success was that we never suffered financially the entire time Katarina was growing up.
In reality, Katarina, Alex and I all grew up together. Even though we had tried several times through the years to get pregnant again, it had never happened. Consequently, Katarina grew up as a very content and happy only child. The three of us were very close and, for the most part, were a very traditional family. We sat down to dinner together almost every evening at the dinner table, we allowed no TV, and each of us talked about their day.
Alex's stories were always very funny, filled with good-natured jabs at the guys with whom he worked and who worked for him. He affectionately called them 'idiots', because as he frequently said, a bunch of men on a construction site were just big kids playing in a sandbox, which was filled with full-sized, real-life construction toys. Katarina's and my stories were often joint stories, because we were frequently together, either alone, with her friends or mine.
As Katarina grew up her personality blossomed on its own. We didn't try to influence who she would become as much as we tried to let her determine her own way within well-defined boundaries. She was a very good kid and we never had the disciplinary problems that some people suffer with their children.
I really don't know if her name had anything to do with the way her personality developed, but it coincided in a very recognizable fashion. Early on, we noticed that she moved very quietly and would startle us by appearing out of nowhere and leaping into our laps, like a cat. Even as a small child, her movements mimicked a cat. The weird thing was that we didn't have a cat. We didn't know anyone that owned a cat. Alex truly hated cats, except our own Kat. That's what we eventually started calling her. I don't think it was a conscious decision, it just started happening.
Kat was not a beautiful girl, however, she was striking and turned heads in any room into which she arrived. Kat didn't merely walk; she moved with a languid, leisurely prowl that drew and held your attention. The grace with which she moved was probably attributable to the years she spent in gymnastics, her tiny frame perfect for the sport.
Kat was very small. Her dad and I are not terribly small people so it came as a surprise that she started small and stayed that way. She was always the smallest kid in any class or activity. She was not tall, flatfooted; she would strain to reach four-feet eight inches.
Her little face had a blush of freckles across her cheeks and nose, just like mine. I have always thought of the freckles as my gift to her. Because of her athletic history, her body was fit, trim and perfectly proportioned. She had perfect B-cup breasts, a nice bubble butt and legs for which any woman would kill.
She's a redhead. Her hair was dark red, thick and unruly. Because it was so difficult to keep under control, she had taken to wearing her hair short, cut in a pixie, which also aptly described her, but styled with bangs trimmed at an angle to hang over her left eye. When she would look up at you, through the bangs, it always seemed as if she were peeking at you.
The nice thing about her small stature was that we were able to remain close, as she got older, because she could curl up in our laps, long after other kids were forced to their own seat or the floor because they were too big to sit on their parents' lap. To this day, if she's careful, she can still curl up comfortably on either of our laps. She mostly curled up with me, though occasionally she would sit with Alex. Sometimes, if Alex had been working long hours she would miss him and she spent more time with him than with me, when he would finally get home.
We could always tell if she wanted something from her dad, however. Even though she might have spent hours and hours sitting with Alex, she wasn't always particularly affectionate with him. When she would want something she'd revert to calling him 'Daddy' and hold his hand, kiss his neck and cheek and rub herself on him.
Whenever this would happen Alex would wink at me, laugh and ask, "Kat, what's this going to cost me?"
Every time, Kat would pout and say, "Daddy! Why would you say that? I love you and I'm just showing you how much!"
