I stifled a laugh, and happily, she didn't catch me. It's just that, at almost thirteen, Rachel WAS still a kid. My precocious eighth-grader had, from what I could tell, just recently entered puberty and, like adolescents from time immemorial, she was struggling for independence beyond her maturity.

"She doesn't let me date boys, she nags me all the time about homework, and she even wants to decide which clothes I can wear!"

"Sweetpea, she's just trying to take care of you. There's no doubt to my eyes and ears that you're growing up fast, but at her house, she's still the boss."

"Dad, I wish I lived with you full time, instead of with her. You're a lot cooler!"

Rachel had been in my charge only during alternating weekends since her mother and I divorced four years earlier. Not the greatest of situations for a girl, particularly an only child, but it was certainly preferable to living with two bitterly belligerent parents, and that's what it had become by the time we'd finally called it quits. We lived in separate but not too distant towns these days, and maintained a cool, but polite relationship for Raich's sake.

"I'd probably be a lot stricter, too, if I was responsible for as much of your upbringing as your mom is. You've got to give her a chance, honey. It's hard for her to believe her baby is growing up." Besides, a full-time daughter would severely cramp my "playboy" lifestyle, I silently added.

"I don't believe that, Dad. You really are cooler. Why else would you be taking me to the mall, and promising to buy me whatever I want?" Her sly smile indicated that she expected me to notice how she was stretching my promise, and that she knew I would probably indulge her to her heart's content anyway. I couldn't seem to deny my little girl anything.

0000000

We made the rounds at the mall, hitting all her favorite stores. Sam Goody. Suncoast Video. The Gap.

At the Gap, she tried on some "Daisy Duke" shorts that even to my paternal eyes somehow managed to make her innocent junior high bottom look sexy. I couldn't explain it, but the way the tight shorts separated her little buttocks, and caused them to "shelf out" a bit, actually made my little girl look like a sexual being! She was way too young for that, I thought, but clothing designers these days could sure do amazing things.

Like most fathers, I liked to imagine my daughter would remain an innocent schoolgirl forever, but even I couldn't help but notice how great her long, coltish legs looked extending like tanned, smooth reeds from those astonishing shorts. She pranced around unassumingly in the denim deceivers, completely unaware, apparently, of their transforming effect. I was amazed, frankly, that such a young girl could be made to look so misleadingly mature!

It actually seemed as though she was developing a swell to her hips, and I even caught myself noticing how the heavy blue fabric of the shorts had somehow pushed her juvenile thighs apart, to make it appear as though she had a pussy gap, just like an older girl! It ashamed me that, while I was scrutinizing this effect, her artificially created pelvic gap evoked images in my mind of fingers brushing over the crotch of the shorts. I envisioned a large, manly hand cupping her there, its thick, rude fingers running along the seam that I now noticed was splitting her immature mons into the classic "camel toe" form. I caught my breath.

"What do you think, Dad? How do I look? Can I get them?"

I was speechless. I had snapped out of my twisted reverie - what was I thinking? I must have momentarily drifted to thoughts of one of my girlfriends. That was it. I knew I wasn't a sicko or anything.

But, how should I answer her? I didn't want to tell her what I thought about the shorts, or how she looked in them. I didn't want to put even remotely sexual thoughts into her mind at such a young age, or to suggest to her that she might be anywhere NEAR old enough to be even the slightest bit "sexy". Hell, I refused to believe it myself. She had plenty more years of innocence and Disney ahead of her, as far as I was concerned. However, I could hardly refuse her the shorts without a good reason.

"I think they look great, Raich, but I'm sure your mother won't ever let you wear them."

"Oh, that's probably true. That's okay, I can keep them at your house, and wear them when I'm there!'

I groaned inwardly. These short-shorts had already awakened a realization in me that I wanted to ignore - that my little girl was growing up, that soon she'd be dating boys, thinking about sex, no longer needing the protection of her doting father.

They had also awakened thoughts I absolutely HAD TO ignore -- thoughts that came unbidden once more to my mind -- thoughts of fingers, thoughts of MY fingers, tracing her denim-covered groove.

"Well, um, okay, I guess we can get them." Like I said, I could deny her nothing, and I just wanted her to change out of the shorts and back into the girlish clothes she'd arrived in as quickly as possible.

"Thanks Daddy!" She also tried on several skimpy tops, one or two of which bared her flat, tan tummy. She bought those as well, skillfully exploiting my weakened resistance......(cont)