Chapter Text
Prologue
David is an octogenarian widower, not rich by his own reckoning, but very comfortable. He’s in reasonable physical shape given his age, but the years have taken a toll physically and psychologically, or at least some would say. He would agree about his physical condition certainly, but not about his mental state. What others might see as a descent into hedonism and nihilism, or even becoming a libertine, he considers an ascent toward the best understanding of life he can attain. A positive nihilism if you will.
Besides occasional musings, he doesn’t spend much time thinking about such. He’s enjoying his relatively good health, his more-than-adequate financial resources, and his ability to easily make friends. For him, happiness is the absence of pain.
He conforms to society’s rules when that conformance doesn’t cost him too much.
Chapter 1 — The Backyard
"I like to be naked too.” The voice came from behind him. A young voice. Too young.
David froze in place. Not a good thing. Bent over to the maximum his 84-year-old spine could handle, he had been in the position too long trying to attach a hose to the backyard water spigot. Hearing what was obviously a child startled him and filled him with fear. What to do? How could this be? Privacy had been a requirement when he bought the property. The house sat on the back of a two-acre lot. A six-foot high cedar fence enclosed the backyard. You couldn’t see through it without putting an eye to a crack between boards.
But now he was being seen naked by what sounded to be a child, possibly even female, in the yard. Still bent over, he twisted his upper body left, raising his arm to see the speaker. It was a girl, not yet in her teens and...confusion...she was as naked as he, right down to her bare feet.
He had to stand up, the pain in his spine demanded it, but he kept his back toward the child, turning enough that he could see her over his left shoulder. His mind raced, formulating a defense: This is my backyard. I don’t know her. I didn’t invite her here. How did she get here? She hasn’t seen my genitals. But she’s naked! How do I explain that?
“How did you get in here? Did I leave the gate open? he asked anxiously.
“I came through the fence,” she replied matter-of-factly. “There are loose boards behind that big bush in the corner,” she continued, pointing, her lithe, naked body turning smoothly. “That’s where our fort is.”
“Your fort?” he asked, having trouble focusing his thoughts, the sight of her young naked body overwhelming him. A hint of appreciation joined his fear.
“The boy who lived here before. We made a fort so we couldn’t be seen. His parents didn’t like him being naked.”
“Are, ah, are your clothes in the fort?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should put them on. We don’t want to get in trouble if....”
“Oh, I never tell,” she interrupted. “Does my being naked bother you?”
“Ah, no, not at all. I like you that way.” He surprised himself by saying that. Shouldn’t have said it. He quickly added, “I mean I like seeing anyone naked, not just you.” This wasn’t going well. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I just want to stay out of trouble.”
“I never tell,” she said again. “My mom was a nudist. We never wore clothes at home, but she said it’s best not to talk about that to others who aren’t. I never tell,” she added a third time.
“Where is your mother?”
“She died. I live with my grandparents now...they’re not nudists,” she said with sadness in her voice, regret at the last.
“Oh, ah, sorry to hear that. I lost my father when I was still a child. It’s...hard. What about your father?”
“I never met him. My mom had lots of boyfriends, though,” she volunteered. “They liked me being naked. I like being naked.”
David didn’t know what to make of the remark, and he wanted to ask her if she liked being seen naked as well as being naked. He didn’t, but he was beginning to believe it would be okay for him to turn around. It was a matter of risk. Hell, she’s naked. I’m naked. That would be enough to put me away whether she sees my dick or not.
“So, you know what men look like, ah, down there?” He asked, wanting to make sure.
“You mean their penis and testicles? Of course, my mother had boyfriends,” she repeated.
Her bluntness and usage of formal terminology rather than the profane surprised him. And another remark the meaning of which was open to conjecture.
“May I ask how old you are?
“Ten — almost ten. My name is Jill. How old are you?”
“Huh! Eighty-four,” he replied resignedly, “and my name is David,” he added. Precocious child. She talks like an adult, not a ten-year-old. Jesus, not quite ten, a nine-year-old for fuck’s sake.
David turned toward her, maintaining eye contact to see if she looked down at his genitals. She didn’t. Her lack of curiosity diminished his fear. With the fence and no houses on the lots to either side or to the front across the road, but mainly because of the child’s attitude, he felt secure, at least in the short term. But “loose boards” and a “fort”, what was that? And on his property?
“Can I see your fort?”
“Sure,” she replied, turning toward the back corner of the fenced yard where a large, densely leaved Rhododendron grew. David fell into step behind her.
The fenced yard did not extend the full width of the two acres. It did, though, abut the back property line, beyond which was undeveloped forest. It took but a few seconds to reach the Rhododendron. Always a voyeur as well as an exhibitionist, David thoroughly enjoyed the view of Jill’s small, naked derrière moving smoothly in front of him. She was a delight to look at from the back of her head down to the heels of her bare feet. This is dangerous. Some of his fear returned.