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The Warm Smile Page 1
by Leslie Schmidt
The smile she returned was warm and friendly but there was also a question…maybe… 'are you…would you be my friend.’
She was following, trying to keep up with (I thought) her mother. They’d just come out of the creaky elevator in the musty dark hall. Her aunt (I later learned) was carrying three grocery bags, she had one and it was a bit too heavy for the girl.
I was right about her age—she is eight—pretty plain looking, not fat but filled out, short dishwater blonde hair, pleasant face with very pale blue eyes. In a few years she’ll be worth the payments of some orthodontist’s Lexus.
I hadn’t seen them before and I smiled as we passed in the hall. She returned the smile—kind of unusual in girls her age to make eye contact and be friendly with an old guy like me. I figured I probably reminded her of her grandfather and didn’t let my imagination go much farther. I’d given up those sorts of things a long time ago. At 22 I realized how stupid I looked coming on to a girl half my age. I’d been fun when I was in high school—a lot ten-year-olds are more than willing to put out for a sixteen-year-old. But when you become an adult, you give up childish things.
Still, the smile was a really nice addition to an otherwise dreary day.
Probably three days later, Friday evening, I was in the basement doing laundry. Two of the five washers had been broken for weeks, someone had left a load in the third and my two loads were on the final spin.
The look of disappointment on the aunt’s face made me feel bad for running both my loads at the same time.
“Mine are just finishing up, then there’ll be two free.”
“Thanks,” she forced a smile.
“No, really, that one (I pointed) is running a cold load, it should be finished….” At that moment it went ‘klunk’ and spun down “….right now.”
“Just like magic,” she said with a genuine smile.
Meanwhile, her ‘daughter’ had been peering into the glass front of the dryers. One was running, the other two were empty.
I dragged the only cart (with one missing caster) over to the washer and started taking my darks out.
As I fed the rusty dryer three quarters the word “Shit” came up behind me.
“Come on Olivia,” she said, “I left the detergent upstairs.”
The girl had climbed onto the table and had just put her nose in a game. She looked up with a disappointed expression.
“I’m going to be down here waiting for the other load, I’ll watch her,” I offered.
The woman looked at Olivia who nodded with a plead on her face.
“I’ll only be a minute.” She went out the door.
“Olivia, I’m Scott,” I said to the girl.
“Hi,” she said.
“What’s the game?”
“Sonic.” She didn’t look up.
“Wow, that’s almost as old as me.”
She looked up at me. “Really? They had Sonic when you were a kid?”
“No,” I laughed. “My son used to play Sonic. There were no video games when I was a kid…we used to play Cave Men and Dinosaurs.”
“What was that?”
I chuckled…she didn’t get the joke. “Ever heard of Cowboys and Indians, it came before that.”
She looked confused for a moment, then started to laugh. “You’re not THAT old.”
“Pretty close.”
“Anyway, dinosaurs went extinct before people.”
“Yeah, I guess so…” I chuckled. “I’ve seen your mom here before but not you. Where have you been hiding?”
“She’s not my mom,” Olivia said with a definite downturn in her voice, “she’s my aunt. Mommy’s….mommy can’t take care of me…” She looked down at her game.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I responded. I went over to the washer that had just stopped. We didn’t say anything for a few moments but I didn’t want to leave the conversation on a down point.
As I pulled the cloths out of the washer I watched her. She was concentrating on her game.
She is pretty average, tending away from skinny. Dishwater blonde hair framed high cheeks, a small, slightly up-turned nose and full lips. When she grows up her hair will turn dark but, for now, the roots remained darker but then bleached out to gold.
Her skin is clear—no freckles—and her eyes are large and sky blue. Of course, kids that age are growing like weeds and today she’s grown two inches but a few months ago she was just over four feet.
“Then, you just moved here?”
“Yeah,” she said, not looking up from her game.
“Are you at Franklin Heights?” I asked. (That’s an Elementary three blocks away.)
“Yeah.”
“Did you know I went to Franklin Heights?”
“Really…!” she looked up in amazement.
“Yeah. Back then it was a cave.”
This time she giggled. “No it wasn’t.”
“Naw, actually it wasn’t. Back then it was brand new.”
“Did you really go there?”
“Yes. For third through sixth grade.”
“What was it like?”
“I’ve been over there a couple of times. We didn’t have computers and it wasn’t air conditioned but, otherwise, it’s about the same. Oh yeah, there wasn’t a theater then, we used the lunch room.”
“Was Mrs. Mac O’waine there?”
“Is that your teacher?”
“Yeah.”
“No, none of my teachers are still there. I had Miss Bowen, Mr. Myerson, Mr. Phillian, and Mrs. Pryse. I don’t know what happened to the others but Mr. Myerson became the principal of Rodger’s High and he retired only seven or ten years ago. When I had him for the fourth grade he was a new teacher.”
“You grew up here?”
Her aunt walked in.
“Yeah, I grew up here. We lived over on Crawly Street. I moved away for a long time but just moved back four years ago.”
“Really,” the aunt interrupted, “you’re a native?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Moved away when I joined the Marines in 1978, did 23 years, now I’m back. I’ve always liked Springfield.”
“I don’t know,” the aunt said as she started moving clothes from her basket into the free washer, “it must have changed a lot.”
Just then the second of mine started spinning down.
“Yeah, hasn’t been good on the city, especially after the parts factories closed, but it’s coming back.”
I started unloading the washer as she was putting coins in hers.
“What do you do now?” she asked.
“I work for Senior Services. There are a lot of old Marines like me that need assistance. I think they prefer me—Marines are used to helping other Marines.”
“Wow, that’s good of you,” she said.
“It keeps me out of trouble.”
With my clothes in the dryer it was time for me to leave.
It was the middle of the next week that I ran across Olivia again. Three PM and she was struggling with the door to her apartment.
“You need some help?” I asked.
She looked relieved to see me; I think she’d been scared to be trapped in the hallway.
“I can’t get the door unlocked.”
I had to put a shoulder against the door to get the lock to turn.
“Where’s your aunt?” I asked as she went into the apartment.
“At work.”
I stood in the doorway. “You’re here alone?”
“Yeah.” She looked a bit forlorn.
“OK. Well, ya know, I live in 403, just down the hall here. If you need anything just come and knock. OK dear?”
“Thank you.” Again, that lovely smile.
“When will your aunt be home?”
“She’s working until nine.”
“And you’re here alone all that time?”
“Yeah.”
I was a bit set back…it’s not for me to tell others how to raise their kids but…..
“Well, honey, I’m just down the hall. OK?”
“OK.”
I paused, really concerned. “I’m going to come by in a couple of hours and check on you. OK? When you hear me knock, don’t open the door until we’ve talked.”
“I’m not supposed to open the door,” she said.
“Ah, OK. Then we’ll just talk through the door.”
At six I went back out and knocked.
“Hello? Olivia, it’s me, Scott,” I called.
“Hello,” she responded through the door.
“Is everything OK?”
“Yeah.”
“Honey, do you have a phone?”
“Yeah but Aunt Danni said I can only use it in an emergency.”
I had brought one of my business cards and I slipped it under the door. “My cell number is on the card. If you need to, call me. Call the cell number, not the office.”
“OK. Thank you,” she responded.
We had similar conversations for the next two evenings. Then I didn’t see them over the weekend.
I was driving between appointments on Monday morning when my phone rang.
“Ah, Scott,…this is Danielle Collis, Olivia’s aunt.”
“Oh! Hello,” I responded.
“Um,…thank you for looking in on Olivia. I think she felt better knowing someone was close.”
“Sure.” I said. Then, without thinking: “What time do you go to work? I’ll be done with my next appointment at 10:30. Can I buy you lunch before you start?”
There was a pause. “Yeah, sure, um…this is unexpected…”
“Roman’s deli on the corner, what time?” I asked.
“Well, can you get there by quarter of?”
“Sure.”
We actually met on the sidewalk as I was coming out the alley after parking my car. I ordered a Rubin and she had a shrimp wrap. We both had ice tea.
“Olivia just moved in with you?” I asked as we sat down.
“Yeah, CPS in Ohio took her away from my sister two weeks ago. I’m the closest relative so they sent her here.”
“God, that sounds awful.”
“She’s had a rough time,” Danielle said. Then she looked up. “Never figured I’d have a kid.”
“Must be crowded in a one bedroom.”
“It’s OK. I got a roll away for her.” She was quiet for a moment. “Just, my life isn’t right to be looking after her. I rotate shifts…I’ll have to find a different job and a larger place but rents are so high…”
“Sounds like its pretty permanent.”
“Fifteen to twenty-five and no parole—third time.”
“Shit…poor child,” I said.
“Yeah, my girl friend isn’t too happy either.”
“Yeah, OK…” I gave her a ‘got it, loud and clear’ look. Then, after a silence: “Danielle, look, my job, it’s only part-time and I’m usually home in the evenings. She can come down some…I’ll help her with her homework and we can give each other some company some.”
“Thank you, but I can’t impose,” she said shaking her head.
“It’s not you,” I replied, “its Olivia. I’m not saying all evening every day. Just, if she needs help with homework or is feeling especially lonely…I’m five doors down the hall.”
“Well, thank you,” Danielle replied—her tone was a negative.
“Danielle, I mean it…please talk to her about it.”
An expression of annoyance passed over her face but then it was replaced with relief and then a smile of thanks. “If there’s just someone she can call if she needs something—I’m not even allowed to keep my phone on me with I’m on the floor…”
“Of course.”
“I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“I’ll stay up,” I said. “You two come down when you get home, OK?”
“Thank you,” she responded. Then she looked at her watch. “Shit! I’ve missed the 23 and the 42 sometimes runs late.” She started to stand up.
“I’ll give you a ride. Where do you work?”
“I’m at the AT&T Call Center on Westmont.”
“That’s a ten-minute drive on the freeway…let’s go.”
I checked on Olivia through the door twice that evening then at 9:20 there was a knock.
Olivia was in a night gown, her hair was wet and Danielle, well, she looked like you’d expect after spending eight hours being yelled at by angry customers.
“Hi, come on in,” I waved them into my little place.
“Same as our house,” Olivia said, looking around.
“Yeah, all the apartments on the floor are identical,” I said. Then to Danielle: “Can I get you something, maybe a beer to calm your nerves.”
At first she looked like she’d refuse but then she relaxed. “Yeah, that’d be great!”
“Do you want anything dear?” I asked Olivia.
“Nothing with caffeine,” Danielle said.
“7-Up?” I asked.
“Thank you,” Olivia responded.
They stayed for one beer and it was arranged that Olivia would check in when she got home, then go do her homework and that I’d touch bases with her a couple of times in the evening. The result was that I spent an hour the next afternoon trying to remember how to multiply and divide fractions, then heated up her Lean Cuisine. Olivia complained that she either had them frozen or burnt.
It was seven before I was leaving and she wrapped her arms around my hips and hugged me, first putting her face against my stomach, then looking up with a big smile and her eyes closed. I was conscious of my cock being pressed against her lower chest. Danielle knocked on my door when she got home before going down the hall.
The next evening I fed her a hamburger at my place and she watched TV until eight when she had to go to her apartment and get ready for bed. This time I squatted down and returned her hug—I was surprised when she kissed me.
That evening, when Danielle knocked she asked if she could come back after checking on Olivia.
“I’m really not ready to take care of an eight-year-old,” she said after sitting down with a beer. “I can barely make ends meet now and, well I do get some money from Family Services, I guess I’m a foster mother now, but it’s not enough and, well, my girl friend isn’t too pleased with me being a mother either.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” I responded, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Actually, I didn’t come here to bitch about money,” she said. “I just have to tell you a couple of things about Olivia.”
“OK.”
“Well, you know my sister, her mother, is in prison. She’s a junky and a dealer. She started letting her place be a shooting gallery and, you can imagine what Olivia got involved in.”
All I did was shake my head.
“Also, well, she,…Olivia…she’s done things that…girls don’t usually get into ‘til they’re a lot older.”
“Oh dear,” I said, “that’s sad. Is she…well…upset or, I don’t know, has she been traumatized?”
Danielle suppressed a laugh. “That’s just the thing…she’s perfectly alright with it. It was mostly her mom’s boyfriend. He was her supplier too.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I’m saying…Olivia…she might not act…doesn’t act like your usual eight-year-old.”
“I’ll try not to break her heart,” I said.
“No, Scott, you don’t understand…don’t be surprised if she comes on to you…it’s the way she is…my sister turned her into a little slut…she thinks it’s normal. She’ll probably be turning tricks down on eighth street by the time she’s 13. My sister was giving blow jobs for pills by the time she was twelve.”
I was stunned into silence.
“I guess she needs someone to make her feel…wanted. To her, that means fucking—fucking guys, she wouldn’t do it with me, even if I was in to kids.”
I was appalled, her mother had allowed her to be used and now her aunt didn’t want her. It was difficult to keep my cool while that selfish bitch finished her beer and left. Obviously, she and her sister had a lot in common.
That night I thought a lot about Olivia, about me, about how I’d like to make her feel normal—but I was still thinking of her as I jerked off into the sheets.
Over the next week Olivia became a fixture at my place. By Wednesday she was staying until her aunt knocked when she got in. As I expected, she was at my door at 3:40 that Friday afternoon.
“Hi honey, how was school?” I asked as she came into the apartment and dropped a back pack on the floor.
“OK I guess. It’s kinda fun.”
“That’s really cool that you think so,” I responded.
“Don’t get all grown up on me about the importance of an education,” she intoned.
I had to laugh—pretty ironic sense of humor in a third grader.
“You’ve spent too much time around grown-ups,” I responded. “How much homework do you have?”
“Mrs. Mac O’waine gave me a book to read. I have to give an oral presentation next Friday.”
“What book is it?”
She rummaged around in the pack and pulled out a 6X4 hardcover. It looked pretty thick for an eight-year-old.
“The Tale of Des-per-uk,” she said.
I took the book. “The Tale of Despereaux, (Des-per-row)” I said. “It’s French, you pronounce ‘r-e-a-u-x’ like ‘row’, like ‘rowing’ a boat.”
“Sounds weird. Do you know French?”
“No, just picked up a few words over the years,” I responded.
She took the book and opened it to the middle. It was solid text, no pictures except at the start of chapters.
“I know some French,” she said looking up with a grin. “But not the language.”
We snacked on string cheese and Ritz crackers.
“Tell you what,” I said as I looked through the book. “Each chapter is three or four pages long. You read me a chapter, then I’ll read you a chapter. Once we have ten chapters done we’ll go out to a movie.”
“Is that alright with Aunt Danni?”
“I’m sure she won’t mind,” I said, trying to keep any sarcasm out of my voice.
“Well, she won’t mind,” Olivia said. “She usually doesn’t come home on Fridays anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“She and Sylvia like to go cruising.”
Again I was appalled. “Well…let’s start reading.”
She is actually a very good reader. The first word she sounded out was ‘disappointment’ but then she had it from then on. While I was reading Chapter 4 she climbed onto my lap. It was while I was reading Chapter 6 that she took my hand and moved it into her lap.
I moved it away, onto her thigh.
She started reading Chapter 7—and pulled my hand back into her crotch.
This time, I let it stay but didn’t do anything more. Then, while I was reading Chapter 8 I moved it off again.
She moved it back and, this time, slouched down just a bit and spread her legs a little.
When I finished up Chapter 8 she took the book, then pressed my hand deeper into her crotch, then started reading Chapter 9. She turned the page to start Chapter 10, then turned her head and kissed me on the chin. As I started reading she put her hand on mine and started moving it while slightly flaring her hips.
“You’re not paying attention,” I said between paragraphs.
She didn’t respond.
One page later I finished and she took the book out of my free hand, closed it, then put it on the sofa next to us. Then she lifted up and turned around. She settled down straddling my lap and put her arms around my neck. Again, she was smiling the same way she had the first time I saw her.
I was stupid, I leaned my neck forward and kissed her.
Soon I felt her tongue and I opened my mouth…
After a couple of minutes of more and more intense kissing, during which she began to breath more deeply and my cock started pushing up in my slacks, I broke away.
“Honey, you don’t have to do this…I’m not like….”
“Like what?”
I paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder, then I looked back and brushed her cheek.
“I’m not like the men that used to hang out with your mother.”
“I know you’re not a junky Scott,” she said. Then she kissed me again and pushed her tongue into my mouth.
I moved my hands up her sides and felt her flat chest with my thumbs. She took in a deep breath…I felt her ribs and chest rise and fall in my hands…
She took her arms from around my neck and pulled out her shirt tail (she was wearing the usual school uniform, khaki shorts and a polo shirt).
With my conscious screaming that I was an idiot, I moved my hands under the shirt and ran my thumbs gently over her nipples.
She hugged my head, holding our lips together.
After she broke away to breath I asked, “You really want this?”
“Yes,” she replied looking straight at me.
“Why?”
She looked away and then turned away. Suddenly she jumped off my lap and ran to the window.
I got up and walked behind her but didn’t touch her. “Olivia?”
I saw her shoulders shudder.
“It’s OK…that’s all over,” I said.
She turned and dashed out the door, leaving it open. When I reached the hallway she was unlocking her door. I watched her open it, she looked at me with tears running down her face, then she went in and slammed the door. The lock clicked.
I went back into my apartment. It was 4:20. I put her things back in her pack and put it next to the sofa, then decided I’d wait until 6:30 before I checked on her.
I knocked on the door. “Olivia, you OK?” I called.
“Yes,” came from the distance. “I just had dinner and I’m watching TV.” She was coming closer.
“OK honey, just checking. What time to you go to bed on weekends?”
“I’ll wait for Aunt Danni.”
“OK honey,” I responded. “I’m just down the hall…”
“Thank you Scott.”
“Good night dear.” She didn’t respond.
I spent about an hour lifting and did my normal evening 60 pushups and 150 sit ups before heating dinner. Then I watched some NetFlix, then hit the shower. It was 10:45 and I had still drying off when the phone rang—it was Danielle’s number.
“Hi! Scott?” she yelled over loud music.
“Yeah.”
“I’m just calling to tell you I won’t be home tonight.”
“Huh?”
“I’m staying out…don’t worry, Olivia’s used to it….just wanted to warn you.”
“Ahhh….OK…”
“I’ve done it before…she’s fine with it.”
“Have you called her?” I asked.
“Sent a text.” Someone made a noise talking in the background. She laughed.
“Ah…OK…thanks,” I responded. “She’s been at your place most of the evening.”
“OK,” she shouted. “See ya tomorrow.”
The phone beeped. “Fucking selfish bitch,” I muttered.
Next I texted Olivia.
You still up?
Yeah.
If you need anything, I’m here. Not going anywhere.
I went back into the bathroom and had just finished brushing my teeth when I heard a soft knocking on the door. I didn’t want her standing in the hall so I just wrapped a towel around myself.
She came in, just glanced up at me, and walked over to the dark TV. She was wearing only a tee shirt that didn’t quite cover up the fact that she didn’t have panties on. She turned, then lifted the shirt off and pulled it free of her hair.
“Shit,” I muttered.
I hadn’t seen a preteen naked for almost twenty years, since my daughter was Olivia’s age. Olivia, however, has different proportions than my tall athletic daughter. Where Nancy was long, Olivia is short, where Nancy was skinny, to the point of boney, Olivia is smooth and slightly rounded.
Olivia still has the build of a five-year-old. Her legs are short, only about half her height. Her head is still large for her body. Her tummy isn’t flat but just not ‘fat’ either. Her belly button is still a bit of an ‘outy’. Her areolas are darker pink, about dime size, and in the centers are baby pea size nipples. Between her smooth thighs the labia majora end in a dimple and, if her legs are together, envelop her clit and inner lips.
My cock was pushing out on the towel.
She walked up to me and stood a few inches away, looking up. Her expression was asking a question.
“Dear heart,” I said, “you don’t need to do this.”
“I want to,” she said. Then she reached out and tugged on the towel—it dropped to the floor.
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