Story: A Planned Encounter (g11)   
      
   By Nobody True (M/g, pedo, rape, 1st)   
      
   I'd read about John in the local paper. Read how he'd molested his   
   eleven-year-old niece, his elder sister's daughter. He'd been given   
   three years in the big house and put on the Sex Offenders Register for   
   ten years.   
      
   "My god," I thought, "he'd have no life when he gets out, with nowhere   
   to run, nowhere to hide."   
      
   I'd worked with and for John as a bricky on a few jobs, knew the   
   majority of his work friends, met a few of them, discussing what exactly   
   had happened, no one was sure. Not one of them believed it. John had   
   been married to a very smart young woman, had three young girls of his   
   own, and had a content life. Well, that's what we believed.   
      
   That's when my curiosity kicked in. Who was his niece? What was she like?   
      
   One of the lads told me in confidence that John's sister had moved to   
   Dilton, a small village about twenty miles away to start a new life.   
      
   Friday afternoon I was in my transit van, heading for Dilton, finding   
   the small three roads, one pub village, and driving around, coming   
   across a small building sight. The foreman was still working and I   
   enquired about vacancies.   
      
   "Needing a bricky badly for the next three months," he'd said.   
      
   He asked if I could start Monday, saying lodgings in the village were   
   provided. I had finished on a Friday at one, and was starting on a   
   Monday morning at ten, this was better than ideal.   
      
   I moved into the lodgings Saturday afternoon, getting on well with the   
   landlady, and even better with her husband. We had something in common -   
   he raced pigeons, my father having kept pigeons, and I had learned from   
   him as I grew up.   
      
   By Sunday afternoon I'd been invited up to his allotment, where he kept   
   a loft for the birds. I admired and said how well he'd looked after   
   them. He said it was handy, me having a van, and would I take the birds   
   out and let them go to see what their times were like. I agreed, asking   
   if I could pop up here now and again for some fresh air. He'd eagerly   
   agreed.   
      
   Getting around to the subject of the village, the old man told me that   
   majority of the people had lived here most of their lives and commuted   
   to work, not wanting to leave. However there were two new families in   
   the village, one at the newly built house in the spinney, where I would   
   be working.   
      
   There was an older couple, with boys about fourteen and fifteen, and a   
   couple in their thirties, with a girl and a young boy living at the   
   bottom house in the lane. He pointed, saying, "Over there, the last   
   house in the lane."   
      
   I looked to where he was pointing and noticed it backed onto the   
   allotment and fields, a public footpath leading off to some trees. The   
   old man told me the path led to a pond that nobody used anymore.   
      
   On our way back to the lodgings that were situated on the corner of main   
   road and the top of the lane, I scanned the detached, four-bedroom,   
   large gardened house, surrounded by lelandi hedging, looking to see if   
   she was about. No luck this time.   
      
   I got a phone call Sunday evening from the foreman saying, "I know it's   
   a cheek, but could you get in for nine, as I have a delivery. Could you   
   help me out?" I agreed.   
      
   Leaving the lodgings at eight-thirty Monday morning, I noticed school   
   children - about eight of them - in their uniforms at the bus stop by   
   the small village green. I scanned them, looking for an eleven-year-old   
   girl. There were two of them about that age, and I stared as I drove past.   
      
   One of them was chubby, having long blonde hair, a short blue skirt, and   
   white blouse and tie. Very pretty, I thought. The other was slimmer,   
   wearing the same, with raven-black hair tied in a ponytail and glasses.   
   Quite pretty. They'd both give me something to think about for the rest   
   of the day.   
      
   I drove on to work, down the end of the spinney, met the foreman, and   
   unloaded the bricks and other building materials. We looked at the plans   
   and laid bricks until three-thirty, with a half-hour break for lunch.   
   The foreman, happily inspecting my work, was impressed, saying that it   
   was hard these days to get a decent work force. I agreed.   
      
   Returning home to the lodgings, I called at the small shop/post office   
   to pick up a few things as the bus pulled up. I stood aside as the kids   
   came in, buying sweets, and waited until they were gone and paid for my   
   things.   
      
   I rushed to the van down the lane, heading for the allotment. I passed   
   the young girl with the glasses, and pulled up outside her house,   
   jumping out and opening the back doors, pretending to look for something.   
      
   The girl approached and said hello, and I turned around, beaming the   
   biggest smile I could muster, saying hello. The girl smiled.   
      
   As I looked more closely, she was prettier than I'd first thought. I   
   noticed the small white training bra under her blouse, containing small,   
   rounded breasts, the tie between them, making them more prominent, the   
   short blue skirt with the hem finishing about four inches above her   
   knees. Very nice, I thought.   
      
   The girl asked if I lived around there, and I told her I was staying at   
   the Kimp's and was just popping up to the allotment for some fresh air.   
      
   She smiled and said goodbye and walked up the drive to her home. I   
   walked to the edge of the allotment, leaning against the fence and   
   looking out over the fields towards the woods, staring up at the bedroom   
   windows every now and again.   
      
   A window opened, the nearest one to the allotment and I looked up to see   
   her getting changed out of her uniform, pulling a pink t-shirt over her   
   head and brushing her hair, and then she was gone.   
      
   Mr. Kimp turned up and we chatted while he released the pigeons. We   
   watched as they flew around and around in circles, the happy voices of   
   children were coming from the girl's back garden.   
      
   Mr. Kimp said that they had a swing. I'd asked if he had problems with   
   children on the allotment, and he said no, that they only spoke in   
   passing to go to the pond on Saturdays and Sundays, as the little boy   
   loved to go over and catch little beasties and things in a net putting   
   them in a jar and that he was always with his older sister.   
      
   I smiled, saying that I used to do the same thing when I was a boy. He   
   said he'd never been over there for years and they were welcome to it.   
   It transpired that the Kimps had owned this land for generations. I told   
   him about my work and where I'd traveled, told him I owned a small   
   two-birth caravan that was used when there was no accommodation near   
   sites. He said that I should bring it down and keep it here, and use it   
   as a base until I needed it. I agreed and said I'd go and pick it up on   
   Friday.   
      
   A plan was forming in my head. I couldn't wait for Saturday. The week   
   had gone by quickly, seeing the girl every day and night, her waving as   
   I passed.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)