And Sandy was dating Tommy Edgars, a boy older and obviously more experienced, and definitely not one to protect a girl, not if he could have his way with her. Tommy had been the basis of many a fight between her and Sandy, for Alice thought the boy was too good looking for his twenty years of age, almost overwhelmingly masculine, like a young Adonis, and there was something about him not trustworthy, though Alice couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Sandy, on the other hand, defended the few times he'd taken her out, saying her mother had been watching too many gangster movies on television lately. Alice could only hope and pray that her daughter's infatuation with the handsome youth would die a quick death, and she would get a puppy-love crush on some younger boy closer to her own age and class.

Not that Sandy was a child any longer. Alice had often seen Sandy naked in the shower and dressing in her bedroom next door, as well as in her skin-tight bikini and nearly transparent nylon under-things, and even a casual glance made it obvious that the girl was mature physically. And Alice had looked, in spite of an inner sense of embarrassment at such brazen examination, because she was proud of having produced such a fine offspring, and because it was her only physical, tangible proof of her and her late husband's love for each other. She was drawn with love and tenderness, and yet… there were times when she'd watched Sandy's snub-nosed, freckle-faced innocence and wondered if perhaps she was emerging into maturity a little too fast.

Just that evening, Alice had passed Sandy's open door, and seen her standing in front of the dresser, selecting a clean pair of panties from one of the drawers. Sandy was naked, still radiantly rosy from her shower and buffing with a towel, and Alice had been able to see all of her firm young body in perfect detail.