Jan

my breath away.'

At that, I could see her relax, and quickly took her into my arms, and thanking her, before kissing her and letting her go.

The last gift I pulled out for her was, ostensibly, from Santa Claus.

She saw that, and gave me a Goober look, while I did my best 'Who? *Me*?' impression. When I handed it to her, the weight surprised her, and she gave me a questioning look. I just shrugged my shoulders, and said 'Beats me. Open it, and find out what Santa thinks of you.'

She gave me another dirty look, and tore into it – a girl after my own heart: 'screw the wrapping, what IS it?' – and found that it was a necklace. It started as a gold mail band around the throat; but as it dropped to the shoulders and chest, it tapered to a kind of very fine fringe – the effect was that it would look as though it were growing up, out of her, when she wore it.

She seemed to realize what it would look like on her, and took my hand to lead me back to the bedroom – where I found that she'd hung up the dress, to make sure the cat didn't get to it. I put the necklace on her, and stood back as she held the dress up against herself in front of the full-length mirror. Only then did she get the full effect of the bracelet, dress, and necklace – and reacted by gasping. After a moment, she turned to look at me, and I just smiled, telling her 'I think this will all work, when you wear it to the Prom, don't you?'. She could only nod in reply before turning back to examine herself again.

After a bit, she was able to pull herself away from the mirror; as I watched her, it seemed that she was moving in slow motion – at least, until she got the dress hung up again, next to my tuxedo (I did enough formal social events that I'd finally broken down and bought one). Only then did she return to normal speed, as she launched herself at me, knocking me back onto the bed, where she straddled my waist as she showered my face with kisses before telling me 'That is going to knock every one there off their feet – I'm going to look like a million dollars!'

'Nope. Not good enough.', I replied.

She frowned at me, and I explained'You've got more class and style than anyone else I can think of. To show it all off, you need to look like ten million dollars – at least!'

She grinned down at me, and said 'Yeah, maybe – but when I walk in with YOU, they'll know where the rest is!'

I smiled back at her, and she lay down on me. We cuddled like that for several minutes – until the cat showed up, and started rubbing up against us and purring to beat the band. We both laughed as her soft fur tickled us, and got up to go back into the den – kitten neatly tucked into the crook of Kelly's arm – where we had our coffee and muffins as we watched the Christmas Day parades.

With neither of us being particularly religious or traditional, lunch was leftovers that I reheated. The kitten insisted that what we were eating was good for cats, too, but Kelly firmly kept her on the floor as we ate. The cat finally retaliated by ambushing Kelly's feet and toes, making her giggle at the tickling sensation. When Kelly got up and took the dishes into the kitchen, she found the food and water dishes that I'd gotten – and saw that I'd laid in a proper supply of quality food, as well. When she got back into the den, she kissed me and thanked me again before laying down on the couch, her head on my lap. I put my hand on her stomach – she promptly moved it to her breast – and we stayed there like that for a couple of hours, just listening to music and enjoying having each other there. Eventually, the cat got tired, and climbed up onto the couch, too – then deciding that Kelly's belly would make a dandy napping spot, thank you very much. In just a couple of minutes, we could both hear the little beast purring, loud and hard.

Kelly reached up and put a hand on my face, and when I looked down at her, mouthed 'Thank you!', her face as happy as I'd seen it in a long time.

The next day, Paul and crew came over at our invitation. We exchanged presents, and while Paul and I were talking, Kelly and Jan went back to the bedroom – not only so Kelly could show off her dress and jewelry, but to pass along the things I'd gotten for Jan. When they came back, Jan leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek, and whisper in my ear 'Thanks, Uncle Dan – I'll model them for you soon!'

Jan and the kids loved the kitten, and played with it for hours before it finally tired out, and climbed into Kelly's lap for a nap. Even Paul seemed to find it amusing – and he was most definitely a dog man. Lunch was roast beef sandwiches and fries; I didn't figure any of them were in any frame of mind to enjoy anything too similar to Christmas dinner.

Afterwards, Paul and I watched a couple of games on TV while Jan and Kelly talked in the bedroom and the boys had fun playing with the cat.

As evening approached, Paul rounded all of them up, and with goodbyes all around, headed home.

Over the next several weeks, each of the girls that had been at the sleepover stopped by at various times and for various purposes – sometimes to simply stay with us for a while, other times because they wanted to make love; either with me, or Kelly, or Jan, or even each other. For whatever reason they chose to come over, they were always welcomed, unreservedly. And they always left more content and happy than when they'd arrived.

In March, she came home to tell me that she'd been selected as Valedictorian for her class, and been told she could give a ten minute speech. I congratulated her, and hugged her. Over the next few weeks, she wrote, then honed, the speech she wanted to make. Since she didn't solicit any suggestions or advice from me, I simply left her to it.

It was in April that I got a call from Kelly, in school, while I was in the office. I could tell she'd been crying, and when she told me that she needed me to come to the administrators office at the school -'right now!' – I went. Right now.

When I got there, I was quickly directed to the offices, and then quickly past his secretary, and on in to see the Administrator.

When I went in, I could easily see that Kelly had been crying – but not out of sadness but pure anger and frustration. After I saw how upset she was – and must have been – I looked at the man behind the desk; he visibly drew back from the expression on my face.

'My name is Dan Marshall. Why am I here?'

He spoke, saying 'I'm Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Marshall. I am the administrator of the school, and it was Kelly that called you, not I. We were having a bit of a problem with her, and asked her to call someone that was responsible for her.'

I looked at Kelly, and saw the outrage she was feeling, before I spoke to him again, telling him 'What would be the problem that you would have to make such a request?'

'She had been selected as Valedictorian for her graduating class, and we had asked her to submit a copy of her proposed speech. We found the speech to be unacceptable, and asked her in here to explain what her purpose was for wishing to make it. We found those reasons to be unacceptable, and requested that she come up with a different one. She flatly refused, and I'm afraid that things deteriorated to the point where either she agrees to give a different speech, or I must select a different Valedictorian. Uh, might I ask what your relationship is to her? I know that you aren't one of her parents, since I've met them before.'

This pompous little despot had managed to aggravate me with his attitude, so I told him 'It is my privilege to be Kelly's lover.'

That threw him, a LOT, and before he could start up again, I continued 'Kelly does not need to contact anyone – by law, she is an adult, and responsible for herself.'

'Yes, she said something about manumission, but that could only apply to slaves, and slavery does not exist any longer.', he proclaimed.

'I would suggest that you contact your legal counsel – this state does, in fact, have a manumission statute that allows an otherwise minor child to be granted the status of full adulthood. So your demand that she contact someone 'responsible for her' was most likely a violation of her civil rights as an adult. I may be wrong on that; it would be a matter for the courts to decide, should she decide to seek legal redress of the matter.'

At the mention of it going to court, he paled slightly, and said 'Now, I really don't see how the courts would have anything to do with this.'

'Then I would suggest that you contact your lawyers. In fact, I demand it – right here, and right now – so that we can at least get that part of this nonsense out of the way. So long as you insist on treating her as you are, you're only making the situation worse.'

With that, I stood up and told Kelly 'I would suggest that we wait outside while this twit finds out what kind of