Her name is Stacy Lynn Perkins. She is 15, with long black hair and hazel eyes. She stands about 5’7″, and looks incredible in a one-piece pink sleeper. She is my cousin, and I think I’m in love.
Okay, I had better explain that. Stacy has only been my cousin for 15 days. Uncle Frank and Aunt Jeanette (mom’s sister) just adopted her. I’m not up on all the details, but she had been in foster care for years with no one wanting to make the final commitment. My aunt and uncle are otherwise childless, and decided to look for an older child. They met Stacy and it was an instant match. They had already been through most of the process, so the actual adoption took a very short time.
This weekend the three of them came to visit, arriving close to bedtime on Friday. This was the first time for us actually meeting Stacy. After introductions were made, Dad set up a cot in our guest room for Stacy, and we all went to bed.
Saturday morning about 8 AM, I came out of my room headed for the bathroom. I was already dressed for the day. At almost the same time, Stacy came into the hall from the guest room, wearing that pink sleeper. It wasn’t hard to guess where she was going.
“Good morning, Stacy,” I smiled, “I guess you’re headed for the bathroom.”
“Yes, I am.” She returned my smile but was blushing a little at being caught in her sleeper.
“Okay, you take it first. I’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” She scooted through the door and closed it.
As I waited, I heard sounds from the kitchen and from the guest room. It seemed like my parents were already up and the Perkins were just rising. Uncle Frank stuck his hand in the hallway, and saw me leaning against the wall facing the bathroom door. He pointed toward the door and I nodded, so he ducked back into the guest room.
Later in the day, Stacy and I were in the TV room, sitting together on the sofa watching some program. Our parents were in the family room playing Bridge.
“Have you ever let a boy kiss you?”
“No!” She gave me a sharp look. “Why would you ask me that? Because I was a foster kid? Is that it?”
“No!” I felt myself blushing. “Nothing like that.”
“You’d be surprised what some boys think a girl in foster care will do. Well, that’s not me. I haven’t been on any real dates and I’ve never let a boy kiss me.”
“Please believe me, I would never think anything like that.”
“Well then, why?”
“I wanted to know if you’d let me kiss you.” I knew my cheeks must be bright red. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid way to ask.”
Stacy regarded me solemnly for a long moment. It was clear she was wrestling with several emotions, and I couldn’t guess which ones. Finally, she turned to look at the TV. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I wasn’t ready to trust my interpretation of that answer.
I leaned in and she turned toward me. Our lips touched once briefly, then again and lingered. I leaned back and we smiled at each other.
“That was nice, Stacy.”
“Yes, it was, Mitchell.” She reached up to turn my face toward her and kissed me again, even longer this time.
“Thank you Stacy.” I put my right arm around her shoulders. She snuggled against me.
“You’re welcome Mitchell.” She looked at the TV for a long moment. “When you asked me, I almost told you no.”
“After that horrible beginning, I almost didn’t ask.”
She chuckled and leaned her head against my shoulder. I took her left hand in mine and she covered it with her right hand as well. We watched TV for a couple of hours.
I haven’t the faintest clue what the programs were.