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No Innocents On The Playground

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The man watched the little girl as she ran and played with her friends in the schoolyard. He was so intent on her that the world around him became a soft blur of vaguely noticed activities. None of the other children mattered one bit to him, only her.


If her Mother found, he quickly corrected his own thoughts. It was not if but when her Mother found out; the man knew that he would have to be far more cautious next time.


It enraged him that he had to be so covert, so sly, just to see his own little girl, his little Ashley. He was her Father! He had a right to see her! Her Mother had no right to...


Will she know me if she sees me? No, I am a total stranger to her, he sadly reminded himself.


The man took a deep breath and let it out very slowly to steady his nerves. He had to keep that rage under tight control, however. It was easy to do for now. Ashley was still an innocent little child, not yet grown in to the beautiful young woman that he knew she would become some day. For now, he did not have to worry about when she was grown. For now, he could just stand here and watch...


"So, which one is yours?"


The throaty voice jerked him out of his reverie. He turned to see a tall blonde woman beside him, and the rage came over him again. The woman was wearing layers of makeup, high heels so tall and sharp that she could have probably killed an elephant with them, spicy perfume that nearly choked him with its sheer volume, and a dress and skirt so short as to leave none of her womanly mysteries hidden at all. Dressed like some back street whore, even for these decadent times! And here, right in front of the little ones, too! How dare she flaunt herself so openly before the children!


He thought he would be safe here among the innocent children! No rest for the wicked, he told himself dryly.


With an effort, John Druitt forced down the seething rage, and smiled warmly at the woman. It was the smile he new how to use so well, the smile that frightened and enticed them, and this one was no different. He knew she was now afraid of him, but attracted to him, too, and that attraction would win out, if he so desired it.


"That is my little daughter," he said softly, pointing at Ashley on the swings. "And, which one is yours, if I may ask, madam?" Oh, forgive my manners."


He held out his hand and made a little bow to her.


"My name is John."


Yes, perhaps his Ashley would not be the only one having fun on a playground today?



The End