The events in this story are roughly related to a specific court case which is completed, and now a matter of public record. Names, places and event timing have been altered; however effort has been made to accurately portray the substance of the case background and the court findings. To that degree the story is true.
Earlier events in this story may be much more inaccurate than those as the story moves along. Timing of these earlier events and correspondingly, the age of the young woman involved is much more a product of speculation on the part of the author, but it is based loosely on later depositions and court records as much as possible.
An attempt is made in the later portion to portray events as accurately as public record allows.

For Sarah Wanewrite this day began like so many before. She awoke when the first bright shafts of light came across her room. The far wall turned into a bright array of color. No one could sleep with such a bright show. Her large oak book cases started to glow. Her first thoughts went to the many good stories she had read, reread and then filed away in these enormous book cases.
Moving slowly, she slipped to the edge of her large king sized bed, pulling the covers into place behind her and sat on the edge for a moment before dropping several inches to the floor. Her night gown hung up as she slid from the bed to the floor, revealing young legs taking the shape of early womanhood.
The ever so slight brush of her nightgown down her legs caused her to halt momentarily. She stood still enjoying the feelings that coursed through her young body. Sensual images, undefined, caused her hesitation.
In one motion she lifted the night gown over her head and tossed it on to the bed. She was standing absolutely nude in the cool morning air. Sarah turned slowly enjoying the sensations and freedom, until she gradually came back from her thoughts.
Across the room, across what seemed like a mile of marble floor, she could see her outfit for the day was laid out and ready for her. The maid’s last duty as she prepared the room each night was to lay out the outfit Sarah was to wear the next day. This routine had been the same day after day all her life.
For the last nine months it had been winter outfits; warm, fashionable, preppy and boring.
But, today it was going to be different. All the dull routines of tutors and lessons came to an end. Today summer started and this was the day she was going to travel. In Sarah’s world it was officially summer and her outfit would be selected accordingly.
For nine long months the same routine had occupied most of the day, every day, but not today. Three months of summer break was to begin. Three months reprieve from the dull never ending succession of old women arriving and departing convinced they had taken Sarah to new heights of learning. Hours of piano lessons and practice. Hours of reading books of all types. Hours of listening to adults having drinks and dinner in the evenings, and hours alone in her rooms imagining what normal kids might be doing.
Sarah loved to read and thank goodness. She read vociferously everything she could find including several adult books stolen from her dad’s library upstairs.
Sarah walked slowly across the cold floor toward the pile of folded cloths on her dresser. Each step caused a conflict. The cold floor shocked her feet just enough to wake her farther and keep her in touch with reality, while the very gentle touch of her inner thighs as she walked created sensual feelings which caused her mind to wander. Her personal library was very large and filled with proper books for a young woman her age, but she had also read many of her dad’s books which were quite X-rated.
She considered herself very advanced for her age. She understood why and how these responses occurred as she walked. At one time some of these reactions had scared her, but no longer; now they left her with empty feelings, well aware of unfulfilled desires she now understood.
On top of the pile were her panties; proper, white, cotton and new. She stepped into them and slowly brought them up over her legs. This simple act swept her from reality. Just the touch moving up along her legs was enough to cause a disturbing shudder through her body.
During the last several inches upward she slowed her movement even more to enjoy the sensations.
With her panties finally in place, she stood gazing idly at her image in the full length mirror beside her dresser and the remaining clothes piled in front of her.
Reality had slipped away. She was in a trance. The panties were tight, too tight. They were brand new and already too small for her. It was a reminder that her real mother had been gone for over two years now. When her mother bought her things they fit. After she left, the health tutor, Myrtle, started to buy her clothes and she bought things too tight right from the beginning.
Sometimes Sarah thought it might be on purpose. It was evident from her classes Myrtle had some strange interests in Sarah’s sexuality.
She slipped a beige silken camisole over her head and turned toward the mirror behind her dresser. Changes had really started at the top for Sarah. Her young breasts were now clearly defined. Her nipples firmed as this soft undergarment passed over them; another shudder.
Should I be wearing a bra, she asked herself as she turned in front of the mirror? She remembered reading a novel where a young girl described how hard it was to ask her mother that question. Well in Sarah’s case it would be much harder.
Her mother had not been in contact with her since she moved down to South America over two years ago.
Her dad was always busy and hard to talk to about anything let alone a subject like this.
Then there was the obvious choice, Myrtle. She bought the clothes and tutored in health and sex education, but she just was way too kinky. She loved to talk about strange things, recommend wild books for Sarah to read, and take too much interest in Sarah’s female development. Uncomfortable!
Then there was Cybil. About six months ago dad came home with a new administrative assistant/ girl friend named Cybil. This new lady had tried, off and on, to talk with Sarah, but it was hard. Sarah knew the small talk was just a ploy to bring Sarah into her life…it didn’t work. Sarah did not trust Cybil and she did not like her either. No way would she talk about her developing breasts with Cybil.
A white blouse followed the camisole. It was cute, sort of a school girl look, with an artificial tie at the top. It was tailored quite snuggly but boxy enough to cover up what clearly showed through her camisole.
Next she pulled on a pleated Scottish plaid skirt. This skirt demonstrated so clearly that Sarah’s recent growth spurt had not been considered when Myrtle shopped for clothing. A lot of her growth had been in her legs and the new length and shapeliness of her legs made the skirt very, very short. Fortunately, her waist had remained about the same so the skirt fit there. (A little harder to button)
Dark green knee socks and saddle shoes completed her outfit.
Sarah was ready for breakfast. As she turned in front of the mirror for a final time she was brought to a complete halt by her image. She was dressed to look like a school girl, but when she moved her hands upward to her breasts, gently touching them; her nipples responded and clearly showed through her blouse. Her legs were on display, shapely, toned and too long for this skirt…even though it was a cute Scottish plaid. This quick view in the mirror was a reminder to keep things in check when others were around, although no one ever seemed to really look at her.
At breakfast she sat alone at the long table in the dining room as usual being served by one of the new maids. The length of the table and the twelve chairs around it, only emphasized how alone Sarah felt. The woman serving breakfast was gracious but she did not know Sarah’s name, kept calling her Carol.
“Is my Dad coming down for breakfast?”
Sarah asked.
“Not this morning. You have forgotten, dear, today he left for the airport real early. He has a flight to Hong Kong around nine. He told us to make sure we said goodbye for him and remind you that he won’t be back for four or five weeks.”
While the maid was talking, the butler, Jayson, came into the dining room and now offered a little more information ending with,
“Cybil drove your dad up to the airport.”
Well that was a real change of plans. Sarah had remembered her dad was leaving on a business trip this morning, but had never been told what time he had to leave. Also no mention had been made of Cybil driving him to the airport.
How could they forget? Her dad had asked Cybil to drive Sarah to music camp this morning, and she had agreed.
Sarah had been excitedly getting ready for camp, for several days. She had been practicing some special music, trying to polish her piano skill. The help had been packing her two pull bags off and on all week. Everything was ready. She was to leave for a two month music camp at Evenrude Institute. It was the major event of her summer…in fact her entire year…and now it would appear she was without a ride.
“When will Cybil be back?”
The butler hesitated before responding,
“I know they talked about Cybil taking you to music camp. I am sure they have not forgotten. It should take her no more than an hour to get up to the airport and back.
You are all ready. We have moved your bags out to the car park to be loaded when she returns. Why don’t you go upstairs to the study and read for a bit. You may be a little late getting up to camp but that should work out alright. ”
As Sarah climbed the stairs she became more and more depressed. Mother was living permanently in South America…she had not heard from her in months. Dad was a full time business executive…all caught up in the international trade business and his latest lady friend Cybil. Cybil was all caught up in going over the top to get into dad’s check book and that required minimizing any influence Sarah might still have with him.
The morning sunlight made the wooden paneling and bookcases in her music room softly glow; what a beautiful room. Sarah settled into a large wing back chair and started idly turning the pages of a book of piano music. Within ten minutes she was seated at her beautiful Steinway grand playing Dubusse’. Something about playing Clair de Lune took her out of herself.
It was sometime later when the phone rang. For some reason Jayson was not answering, maybe in the shower. Sarah picked up the phone,
“Sarah this is Cybil. Listen dear, your dad and I are at the airport. After you were in bed last night we had a long talk and he decided I am going to travel with him this time. I spent most of the night packing. I am so excited. We are ready to board. I wanted to make sure you knew what was up.
See you when we get back…loves from us, dear!”
Like that, Cybil hung up and Sarah was left with the hum of a disconnected phone.
It was obvious they were all checked in and boarding the flight to Minneapolis; first leg of the long journey. There had not been one word about Sarah, music camp, or anything else here at the estate.
Talk about a bummer!
Sarah returned to the piano and quietly played the last few bars of the Dubusse’ piece.
Finished, the room turned silent and overwhelming loneliness came over her. Her dad had not even come on the phone to say goodbye in person.
This house, this estate, all this wealth, all these expensive possessions, all this highly qualified help; it all meant nothing right now. She was a young woman whose mother lived in a strange country and was completely out of touch and her father was caught up in business and the social whirl of a much younger woman. The house was enormous and very cold leaving her the lonely life of a privileged young woman living alone in a stone castle.
Evenrude Institute and the summer music camp was her only chance for something more normal, friends, fun, and good classes.
Trying to be an optimist Sarah finally concluded all was not lost. Although, none of the help had said anything about taking her, she would just go down and have Jayson get into their schedules and find one of the “house help” who could make the four hour drive.
First though Sarah needed to call Evenrude Music Camp to explain that she would be late.
The phone rang at Evenrude. A very professional female voice answered quickly. Half way through Sarah’s explanation that she would be late, the voice on the other end informed her that there was no reservation for Sarah Wanewrite. During several more moments of conversation, Sarah was informed that no reservation and no money had been received for this summer season, and farther, the administrators had tried several times to inform her parents that the paper work had not been received and concluded she was not coming.
“With some effort we can accommodate you, Miss Wanewright. You have come here so many years it is a shame for you to miss. Please have your mother find the application paperwork and just come on up with if filled in. Have your driver bring a check or money order. We will get you in for sure!”
Sarah was dumb founded,
“I will see what they have to say” was all she could offer before hanging up.
Slowly Sarah wandered down through the house, one floor following another. Not a sole was around, not a sole noticed as she walked quietly out the side door of the estate. Outside she walked idly back toward the car park building.
Inside she found her bags sitting behind her dad’s jeep waiting to be put in the Escalade when it came back from the airport. She stood there dejected thinking,
“With the way things are going for me, someone will just back over the bags.”
One at a time she pulled the bags out the door and around the corner to the old milk house. The milk house was a safe place to put them. Sometimes in the fall the gardeners would use it as a storage shed for small garden equipment, but that was all. Otherwise, it had not really been uses for years. The bags would be dry and safe there until one of the help could move them back to her room.
She wandered back into the car park past her dad’s Corvette, his classic old muscle car, his Lincoln Town Car, his restored vintage limousine. She liked the car park. It smelled good. His cars were always in perfect condition.
Sarah did not want to go back to the house just yet. She liked being outside. It had rained during the night, and it was a wonderful day. Things smelled good outside. She went to the back of the car park and started to investigate behind the cars and the many work benches. She was looking for nothing in particular, but just snooping made her feel like a detective in a good novel.
In the very back, behind all the cars, was a storage area, and as she explored her eye caught an old rusty bicycle, leaning against the wall behind a large cabinet of tools. It caught her interest. It probably had been her dad’s when he was young. No one had moved it in years. It was half hanging on the wall. The wonder was…the tires still had some pressure.
With a little effort, Sarah managed to get the old bike out from behind the cabinet and down the short passageway between the cars to the front door.
It had been several years maybe five or six, since she had ridden a bike. She definitely had not been on a bike since she started school studies. But with two tries she felt like an expert as she rode down the incline and around the courtyard in front of the building. What fun!
After a few circuits of the courtyard, she rode around back of the car park where a lovely tree lined path ran out along the sheep field. It was a short ride; the field was only the length of a football field; the perfect place to test her riding skills.
She glanced down as her short skirt responded to the position of her legs as she rode. The seat of the bike, the short skirt, the motion in her young breasts with each slight bump; an unexplained shudder of excitement passed through her as she moved surely down the path along the fence line separating the sheep from the tall corn to her right. What a nice ride. This was like something out of a novel. She was free. She was on an adventure in some strange land. No one knew where she was. She rode faster.
At the back side of the sheep field was an old gate out to a gravel country road. She had never been back here before. An extension to this adventure was in order.
How many time her mother had admonished her when she was younger not to leave the property. Who would care if she left the property now? Who would even know? That same mother was now living in Brazil with a new lover and had been completely out of touch for months. It seemed like her dad travelled all the time and now he was even taking his new young girl friend.
The gate opened and closed behind her with some effort.
Freely, she rode down the country road with the wind moving her long blond hair back behind her shoulders. She was lost in the freedom, oblivious that the breeze pressed her white blouse against her young bosom in a revealing way, and her short skirt was riding up way too high. There was no one to see. There was no one on the road. It was a deserted old tree lined country lane. Maybe, two cars a day used it.

NEIGHBOR

Several miles and minutes passed as Sarah peddled strongly, caught up in the joy of her freedom and the lovely early summer morning. The air was fresh from the rain and things just smelled grand. She loved being outdoors, she always had, but living at the estate gave her very few chances to do things outside. This was great; she was an expert bike rider now. She rode faster. This old bike was a good one it seemed to just fly.
Finally, a little winded, she stopped under a large shade tree to take stock of her adventure. Clearly, it was time to head back. Someone might be missing her. Who? No one knew she was gone. No one cared. Anyone who thought about it probably thought she was on her way to music camp, but no one had made a reservation for her let alone made arrangements to take her.
Maybe she would ride on, maybe she should head back. This had been a good adventure, but it seemed sensible to return now. She had no idea where this road went and there was little to see except fields of corn, soybeans, hay and acres of big beautiful trees along the side. She had not passed a house or anything else for miles it seemed.
She decided to head back to the estate and practice the piano. The help would all be busy with their daily work. She would practice until she was bored and then read. She had a good book going. She had found it if her dad’s library. It was another with some very X rated parts, but her old tutor, Myrtle had told her everything about all that stuff. Now, it just made the stories more exciting.
Reluctantly, she turned and headed back, but as soon as she was moving she knew the ride back was going to be much harder. Only now, she realized that her ride coming had all been quite downhill with the wind at her back. Riding back was going to be a real slog. She stopped to catch her breath. Looking down she noticed for the first time, the old tires were practically flat. Downhill it had not been noticeable, but now it was a real problem.
Only one thing to do; turn around and continue down into the valley, find a phone and have Jayson send someone to come get her.
Sarah turned and rode downhill once again. Minutes turned into an hour as she moved on down the deserted country lane through enormous red oak trees, then open fields, then darker thicker stands of trees. She had been riding fast downhill it still was a lot of fun, but when would she come to a store or somewhere with a phone?
She was beginning to get concerned.
Finally, she saw an old farm house with several out buildings on the right side of the road setting back quite a ways under several large trees. Two very large red oaks dominated the front of the house and an older guy was setting on a lawn chair under one, reading.
Sarah stopped in the shade at the edge of the road to rest for a moment. Should she ask this fellow for help? He looked ok; sort of country farmer looking tall, trim.
As she contemplated, he got up and heading out toward the road. The house sat back a good fifty yards so it was going to take him several minutes to get out where he could talk to her. Should she jump back on the bike and head on down the road, or should she buck up and say hello.
As he got closer he really appeared quite ok, at least to an over protected young woman who knew nothing (well very little) (mostly what she had read in novels) about the ways of the world.
She could now see he was a trim, sort of middle aged guy, with a ruddy complexion. He wore jeans and a summer shirt, buttoned up the front. His hair had a wave, sort of salt and pepper like. He spoke with an interesting look in his steel gray eyes and a warm clear voice,
“Have you got some troubles, young lady?”
He asked as he approached.
But, before she could answer he had noticed the bike,
“Wow, that’s really an old bike. Good one though. It was one of the very best models back in my day.
Your tires really need air. It must be very hard to ride on tires that soft.
Let me roll this up to the garage there and put some air in your tires.”
He pointed to a small old building about half way up to the house.
“Just wait here I will have it back in a jiff.”
With that he began to push the old bike up the drive.
Sarah thought for a moment and then walked after him,
“It’s more than just the tires pressure, sir. It’s all uphill back the way I came and I don’t think I can make it even if the tires are fixed. I really think I should call someone?”
He stopped and looked back,
“Sure, Ok, I have a phone up at the house.”
With this assurance, she joined him as he pushed the bike up toward the garage. Once at the garage door he stopped and looked at her more closely. A strange look came into his eyes as he began to study Sarah without the bike in front of her. Now he could see the short skirt, the shapeliness of her young legs more clearly. What a beautiful young woman. He felt a nervousness building up inside.
An internal alarm went off. An innocent young gal like this could be nothing but trouble. Alarm! Alarm! Let her make the call and get rid of her as quickly as possible.
“Let’s go on up to the house and you can make that call.”
He offered as he opened the garage door and pushed the old bike inside. He shut the door and turned to lead the way on up the drive.
By the time he got to the house his nerves had quieted down a bit and his curiosity had started to get the best of him. He wanted to know more about this attractive young stranger that had ridden into his driveway. Maybe she would talk a bit before going. No harm in that.
At the house he led the way around back to a picnic table just outside the back door under a big old maple tree.
Sarah dropped down onto the bench exhausted. The ride seemed to catch up with her all at once. It seemed good to sit down. She leaned forward with her elbows resting on the table.
Clem returned with a cold glass of lemonade.
“What is your name young lady?”
He asked, sliding onto the bench opposite her with his drink.
“Sarah Wanewrite”
She offered with our hesitation.
Leaning forward as she was, Sarah was quite close to Clem once he was seated. Clem was surprised she did not sit up and get a little further away.
Her glass of lemonade was quickly empty.
“Could I have another glass? I guess my bike ride was more work than I thought.”
Clem brought out a second glass of lemonade and sat down again.
They sat quietly for a moment. Sarah looked across at him. He was actually cute, in an old way. He seemed nice. No reason to suspect a thing she thought.
“Hey Sarah Wanewrite, wait here a moment, I need to run upstairs. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
She replied.
Bathroom break she thought with a laugh as he headed into the house.

VISITOR

Clem walked back through the kitchen and straight up the steps to the telephone on the second floor.
Three rings later he was in an animated conversation with a guy he had know for a long time, named Harry. Clem was excited. Harry was actually more an acquaintance than a friend, but things like this never happen when you live by yourself out in the country; he had to tell someone and Harry was really the only guy he could talk to. Harry ran the gas station in town and about once a week they would do something together, dinner, cards etc. Both were bachelors and of course, distorted stories about female conquests occasionally came into their conversations. He was certain Harry would not believe this one.
“Harry you are not going to believe what just happened out here at the farm. I was sitting out front in the shade when the cutest little gal rode down the hill on an old rusty bike…yah, she is sitting outside drinking lemonade…cute as a button, what the hell.”
He was just rattling.
Years later Harry would be required to give a deposition to the court regarding his memory of this event. In the deposition he stated that he could tell Clem was shocked by what was going on. Sarah’s visit had been absolutely accidental. Nothing had been preplanned; no trap had been set for the young lady.
Clem’s excitement was infectious. It was a major unexpected event for him.
Harry began to ask one question after another; Clem’s answers were lacking in detail,
“Have no idea…maybe fourteen could be older …no…yah… I will find out….probably over a hundred pounds…I’ll get back to you when I know more.
Right now, I am going to try to get her on her way back where she came from as quick as I can. ”
Phone call finished, Clem returned out to the picnic table.
As he walked out of the back door he found Sarah asleep sitting on the bench resting her head in her arms on the table. Even the slam of the screen door had not awakened her.
Asleep she looked even cuter; light blonde hair, high cheek bones, slim, with the promise of being a raving beauty in a few years.
Clem was all of a sudden filled with the conviction to do what was right,
“Hey young lady, how are you feeling?”
He asked loudly.
She did not move.
It was like he had put something in her drink, as he lifted her free hand from the table and let it fall gently back in place.
She did not stir. Her breathing was heavy, she was fully asleep.
It was easy to lift her from the bench and carry her into the house toward the living room. She was light; but his excitement distorted his judgment for sure. He looked down across her as he moved toward the daybed by the window.
The shapeliness of her young legs captivated his attention and frightened him; her short skirt and the position of her legs over his right arm as he carried her, accented her beauty. He sensed arousal and made and immediate effort to caution himself. She was young. He had to do what was right.
He laid her on the daybed and propped her head up with a pillow. She sighed and rolled slightly toward him while her right arm came up over her head. What an enticing position. Her movement had drawn the white blouse tightly across her and for the first time he could see the outline of her breasts. She clearly wasn’t as young as he thought.
What a conflict. One voice, the voice of reason, was shouting; wake her up… get her to the phone… get her out of here… she is trouble. The other voice, the voice of desire, said quietly; you can handle this…you are old enough to be her father…you have handled female temptation many times before.
A third voice clearly said you are an old fart, don’t embarrass yourself.
What the hell he thought as he reached over and touched her arm. She responded by rolling over toward him even more and moving her other arm over her head to the pillow.
Holy shit, somehow the top button of her blouse had come undone. He stepped back. She was sound asleep. He had not seen anything this enticing in a long time. The small buttons on her blouse seem to come loose so easily. She moved once more ant two more buttons came undone and a gold locket fell out. Two more buttons and the blouse would be completely open. Well she came stumbling into his place, he didn’t invite her. He would just enjoy the fish that jumped into his boat. With one little tug her blouse was completely open.
The button at side of her skirt did not offer much resistance either; nor did upper part of the zipper. Her blouse came out of her skirt so easily and opened completely to reveal a beige camisole.
Everything made the picture more enticing. As she had turned toward him her skirt had moved up slightly. The skirt now covered only about five inches below her waist. It revealed the remarkable shapeliness of her upper legs and a startling little white cotton triangle of panties at the top.
This was it. This was all he was going to do. His conscious had taken control. He had to be mature, caring and responsible. She was certainly attractive, but she was still just another young lady that deserved nothing but respect.
Clem moved across the room and sat down in the old easy chair. He was momentarily exhausted from all the excitement.
This was his normal position each evening, starting with the evening news and ending with a late night comedy show. He would snap on and see what his three good channels had to offer. But, right now he had this special entertainment just eight feet away sleeping on his couch. He really needed to relax, be responsible, get his composure back and watch TV until she awoke, but his excitement only grew as he looked at her from a distance. What a gorgeous picture.
Sarah stirred and turned on to her back, placing both of her arms over her head on the pillow. Her blouse fell open and her legs parted slightly as she relaxed.
That was all it took, Clem was raging inside. If he moved a little to the right he could clearly see her breasts. What a beautiful young body. With her blouse completely open, the swell of her young breast raised the thin top enough to show her two very enticing soft mounds which were moving with each breath.
If Clem moved a little to his left her white panties were in view…what an amazingly short skirt for a young woman to be wearing on a bike ride. His imagination was running wild. Why in the world would she be wearing things so enticing on a bike ride in the country?
Was he being set up? Was there some sinister evil being that wanted to tempt him beyond his control.
His mind was racing; his body was responding. He quietly stood and moved the short distance over to the daybed. He could hear his heart beating in his ears.
He did not want to wake her, but his curiosity was running wild. He had to know more. What did she feel like? Was she as soft and wonderful as she appeared?
Clem’s right hand gently touched her just above the knee. He was shaking. She did not respond. Gently he pulled her leg toward him slightly. Her hips moved a little and then her leg willing came toward him. His hand responded automatically, moving upward, caressing her inner thigh.
Sarah murmured and her legs slowly opened in response.
Clem could feel his heart beat in the palm of his hand where it touched her. Her flesh was so young, so supple, so warm; how in the hell did she end up here in his house. Was she awake, partially awake, did she know what he was doing? What a raving young beauty.
Wild questions abound.
Clem’s hand moved the last three inches and came to rest at the very top of her legs, at the edge of her panties. Sarah murmured and her legs tightened, holding his hand. He was about to explode. Was this sleeping beauty giving him some kind of permission to proceed further? His hand moved upward under her skirt and his thumb hooked under the thin waist band. He was going wild. Would she respond if he started moving downward?
Suddenly, there was a quiet ringing of the phone at the top of the stairs. Freeing himself, Clem moved out and up the steps quickly to catch the call before it could disturb this young beauty and end this wonderful adventure.
He knew who he caller was.
Harry started right out,
“Ok, guy, I got a break here, tell me more about this little prize that arrived in your lyre.”
Clem was slow to answer,
“Harry, all I can tell you is about noon I was sitting out front under the shade trees when she came riding down the road on the oldest bike you have ever seen. I think she was the only thing to come down the road today. She was worn out and the bike had a flat tire. I brought her up to the house, gave her a drink of lemonade and she has been sleeping ever since. She is way young, way cute, and completely worn out.”
With that quick introduction, Harry started into a series of questions that Clem could not answer but it was clear Harry was curious and excited.
Harry told Clem he would come over after he got off work and he could tell him all about it.
Maybe the young chick would still be there and he could meet her.
Clem was quick to tell him that his goal was to get her on the road home a quickly as possible. She had him worried shitless.
Minutes later the phone conversation ended.

---