The two of us lay there quietly in the dark as I thought about what she'd just said. What she'd told me earlier about religion and her opinion of it – that I could understand easily enough. Even without the family history that she had, I'd had something of a problem trying to reconcile the teachings of Christianity with the actions of so many that practiced it.
To an extent, I could appreciate her wish to understand and deal with her own desires, and curiosity about her body. She'd made a reasonable case for why she should be allowed to decide for herself what she wanted to do sexually, and she'd properly expressed (and demonstrated!) that she was serious about what she wanted and expected. When I thought about it, I realized that thinking of her as only being fifteen wasn't fair to her: she was, at most, barely a month from the magic age of 16, when she'd be presumed mature enough to decide such things for herself.
I certainly didn't have any problems about her looks: cleaned up and wearing the right clothes, she was definitely attractive and cute as she could be.
But I couldn't forget that she was there because she'd already shown that she was capable of acting impulsively, without thinking of the potential consequences of what she did. She seemed to have learned better, but I still needed to be sure that she was committed to any kind of intimacy between us.
I finally told her "Okay, Jill, you've explained why you're here and what you think you're doing. Now, I hope you can understand that even though you said you're sure you want to be here and that you want to learn about being… intimate from me, I'm still not ready to start doing anything with you. I mean, I've only known you for a little more than just a single day – I'm not convinced that you're really, truly ready for this. So what I'm going to do is get up and go into the bathroom; If you're not sure, then you leave and we'll act like you were never here. If you're really sure of what you want, it's going to be up to you to make me believe it. If I don't, then it's back to the couch for you – even if I have to pick you up and carry you in there. Understand?"
She said that she did, and after a couple of seconds, I tossed the covers aside and went into my bathroom; closing the door behind me, I turned on the dimmest of the two lights before taking a seat on the commode so I could hold my head in my hands and mutter curses to myself.
I waited for as long as I could, then dawdled in getting myself a drink of water, taking as much time as I could in the expectation that she'd be gone when I came out.
So when I turned the light off again, and opened the door, I was damn near stunned to see that she was still in my bed. Not only that, but she'd turned the light on, and was lying on her back on top of the covers – her entire body on display to me.
And it was quite the show, too: the faint tan lines on her body told me that she only wore fairly modest one-piece suits – influenced or coerced by her parents, no doubt. At the top of that pale zone, her breasts stood proud; each was perhaps the size of half a softball, somewhat conical, and capped by small areolas and nipples that formed pale pink peaks at their summits. Her belly was flat, and her waist curved nicely into her hips – which, in turn, flowed into a pair of legs that almost any woman would be proud of. At the juncture of her smooth thighs, I saw that she had a small wedge of hair that was nearly as pale as what her head sported. Looking at her nearly took my breath away.
Through sheer force of will, I managed to get myself walking toward the bed. As I got closer, I saw that the expression on her face was a combination of nervousness and apprehension. I figured the nervousness was about what I, or we, might do that night; the apprehension had me baffled for several seconds before I figured out that she really was innocent enough not to realize just how damn attractive and appealing she was. I didn't have the slightest reluctance about telling her "Jill, when I saw you yesterday, after I got home, I thought you were a very pretty young lady. But now… getting to see all of you like this… the only word that describes how you look is lovely. Anyone you let look at you this way is going to consider themselves to be very, very lucky. Thank you for letting me see you like this."
I knew that my words had the desired effect when she became visibly more confident – though still nervous. I addressed that little problem by letting her know "You told me that there are limits to how much you want to do with me tonight. I understand that, and I will respect those limits, no matter what else happens with us. You told me that you read the things that I wrote in my book, so I think you know that I will keep my promise on that. But you also said that you want to learn things from me; things about how two people can be intimate with each other. What I hope you learn tonight, more than anything else, is that it isn't what two people do, but why they do it that really matters. I'm willing to be with you like this not because of how you look – and as I say, you are lovely! – but because I care for you. You could even say that I love you."
I saw her eyes go wide at that, and went on "No, I don't mean that I love you the way Todd does, or anything like that. But I do love you enough to be willing to help you learn how you can be intimate with another person – knowing that it won't be me. Because by helping you learn that, I know that it will make you happy. Not just for what happens with you directly, but because I know that whatever you get from me, you'll help the other person learn it, too; and that by them learning it, they'll be able to make you happy, in return."
I continued to stand there looking into her face as she thought about what I'd just said. When I saw that she understood it, I asked "Are you afraid, now?"
"No. I was, a little bit, before – but not now. I know what you mean, now, when you say that you love me; and I know that I love you, too, the same way. After I read what you wrote in your book, I knew that you wouldn't do anything that would… hurt me. And what you just said… I know that I'm right to trust you."
Knowing that she was ready to accept what I had to offer, I moved to lie down next to her, on my side. Moving slowly, I put my hand on her belly – surprising her a little that I didn't go for one of her breasts – and looked into her eyes as I told her "We are not going to be having sex. When you leave here, you won't be any different physically that you were when you came in. However, we will be making love, in a way."
She didn't react in the slightest, and I went on to say "To be intimate with someone else, it isn't a matter what body parts you use. What's important is what's in your heart, and why you're doing it. If you care for someone else, and you're doing the things you do because of that care, then it's fair to call it 'making love'. You can 'make love' a little bit, like we'll be, or you can 'make love' a lot, like you will when you and the right guy decide it's time. Whatever you do, never, ever be intimate with someone because you think you 'have' to, or because you think you 'owe' them something. Any woman that will have sex with a man for money is a whore. An honest one, but still a whore. Any woman that will go to bed with a man if he says or does or has the right things is still a whore – just not an honest one, because she's still selling her body; she's just not honest enough to admit that's what she'd doing."
I saw Jill consider that for a few moments before nodding her head in understanding, and telling me "A couple of the girls at school… well, they'd be all kinds of mad if you offered them cash money for sex. But if you brought 'em flowers, took 'em out to eat someplace fancy, and was polite enough, you'd likely find out they'd be pretty agreeable along 'bout the second date. I guess it is whorin', isn't it? Just a different way of paying, like you said; and not as honest."
"Don't forget the other part of what I said", I cautioned. She looked at me, and I reminded her "I also said that when you ARE with someone, it doesn't matter what body parts you use."