A Fly on the Wall: Savannah 9 5 7 Continued

A Fly on the Wall.

by Ganymede

A Fly on the Wall is the story of Savannah Martin, a ten-year-old fashion model, and the journey to change gender. With surgery in Mexico depending on meeting certain conditions, the responsibility falls on Grampa.

To read the rest of the story, click here: Contents

To read other Ganymede stories, click here: Ganymede

Copyright 2019

The responsibility falls on you, the reader, to support Nifty.

It’s easy, safer than using a condom, and personally satisfying.

Why let others pay the bills for your thrills?

< < < Savannah is still nine years, five months, and seven days old > > >

If you haven’t read the preceding parts, you should do so before continuing.

The walk from the clinic to the Jeep took forever. No one wanted to get in the car and drive off. Instead, Savannah, Mom, and Grampa wandered through the garden. Frank detoured off the main path, and stopped to watch the gardener and his young assistant pruning stunted grape vines. The assistant, a boy about 12, picked up, and did minor repairs on the two-wire trellis. Like the gardener, he was typical of the region, stocky, unappealing features, black shiny hair, and olive skin. He looked up and leered at Savannah, keeping his back to the gardener.

“Fucking idiots! Pruning in the middle of the growing season,” Frank grouched.

Fit to be tied; he hadn’t said a word since leaving the doctor’s office. Seeing the gardener’s boy smirk knowingly at Savannah was the last straw. If that wasn’t enough, the boy said something in Spanish, not under his breath, loud enough to be heard. It was obvious he knew what went on in the clinic.

 “They’d be better off digging weeds,” Karen muttered, picking her way through a wildflower garden.

Frustrated, Savannah sat on a low wall, iPhone out, picking letters with a single finger in slow motion, kicking her sneakers together. Frank wandered over. She looked up and went back to typing. He sat on the wall beside her and put his arm around her.

Savannah jerked away, clearly very disappointed. No eye contact, not a word.

Karen came over, took her hand, and tugged to get her up and walking. They made slow progress toward the Jeep.

“Why’d Grampa have to go and ruin everything?” Savannah wasn’t about to talk to him, maybe never again.

 “Savy, Sweetie, Grampa didn’t ruin anything. He’s very worried about you, so he asked questions, that’s all.”

Savannah gave her mother a grim look, ignoring him on her other side. “It was going great until he made Dr. Stein mad.”

“If I was out of line, it was only because I love you,” Frank said. “It needed to be said. There’s too much at stake.”

“You don’t really love me. If you did, you’d know what I want!”

Karen waited until she calmed down. “Savannah, he wants you to be happy; we both do. Looking right is very important; however, at your age, you don’t realize other things can be just as important.”

“Like having sex?”

“Savy, the doctor’s right. What if you change your mind after you’ve had sex?”

“Mickey had the operation when she was my age; why can’t I?”

“Honey, her mom said she was having sex before she turned nine.”

“Who with?” Savannah demanded.

As much as Frank wanted to hear about Mickey, he picked up the pace. He needed to let off steam before he exploded. Hearing the Mexican kid call Savannah ‘el chico femenino’ (female boy) was the last straw.

“I don’t really know. It’s none of our business, anyway.”

“Her uncle lives in Boston. She goes there every month.”

Karen didn’t expect that. After a few moments, she shook her head. “Savy, all I know is her mom told me her brother is gay.

“So her Uncle Ian does her?”

“Who knows? It isn’t anyone else’s business.”

There were tears in Savannah’s eyes the whole way back to the car. After slamming the car door, she stretched out on the back seat, pulled the alpaca blanket over herself and sulked, completely oblivious to the temperature. It was hot enough to broil rib-eye steaks; too hot to play games on her iPhone.

Frank cranked the engine, lowered the car windows, and adjusted the air vents for maximum flow until the air-conditioning caught up.

“That went well.”

“Let it go, Dad.”

“You picked up a nice bag and some nasal spray for two grand, though,” Frank said.

“Tell him it also pays for my orchiectomy, Mom!” Savannah snapped.

Frank shoved the bag from the console back between the front seats, where Savannah could reach it.

The bag was Stein’s T-G Kit, a parting gift packed with his so-called ‘essentials for transitioning.’ The bag, itself, was Mexican art turned into craft, a combination backpack and mini-duffel, embossed cowhide with colorful geometric embroidery and a plaited drawstring with crimson tassels on the ends. It was the sort of bag fashionista Hispanic women and gay boys carried. Savannah adored it the moment she saw it. Now, she dared not touch it.

Karen called ‘seat belt.’ The brat in the back mumbled ‘on,’ stretched her legs, yawned, and defiantly folded her arms. She looked out the window one last time as the Jeep pulled away from Dr. Stein’s clinic.

Karen sighed and shook her head. “It’s not the end of the world, Savy.”

“It is for me!”

Savannah and Mom sank into a funk before Frank turned onto the road. With the car windows closed and the A/C at full bore, it was almost bearable except for the moody silence. They skipped Topolobampo; no one wanted to stay at the marina hotel.

Frank settled in for a long drive through the night. No one said a word the entire way back to Los Mochis; then, no more than monosyllables until they came to El Carizo. Frank pointed out Mango Land. It seemed like six days, not six hours since they’d stopped there. Karen peered over her seat back to see if Savannah was awake.

“Is she awake?” Frank asked, dreading the conversation he’d have to have with Savannah.

“Down for the count. You’re usually full of good advice, Dad,” she said quietly. “I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts.”

“I didn’t like Stein much at first,” Frank ventured.

“Neither did I. Then, at the end, he redeemed himself.”

“I think he has Sanny’s best interests at heart. If you exclude cutting off the little brat’s balls.”

“Dad.” She smiled and shook her head. “A long time ago I realized it wasn’t that big a loss.”

It was a loss, yet it wasn’t—essential yet dispensable.

“It’s hard to get used to. No nuts is a big step.”

“It’s going to happen; if not Dr. Stein, some other way.”

Frank panicked. “You seriously think Sanny would do that?”

“I worry about it when she gets down in the dumps. A couple of times I didn’t go to work because I was afraid she’ll skip school.”

“If it makes a difference, I’ll pay for implants,” he offered.

“Thirty-five grand, every year until she’s 16. That’s a quarter of a million bucks, Dad.”

With nothing to say, Frank shut up. Another ten miles of silence passed until he started to think about stopping for food.

“How about something other than mangoes for dinner?”

“Only if there’s salad for Fashion Brat,” Karen said. “You got any ideas?”

“Navojoa. Dinner at eight, back on the road by nine.”

“Savannah, Dad.”

“Get him laid, a-s-a-p.” He saw her scowl in his peripheral vision. “The good news is we don’t have to worry about her having a baby, just chronic constipation.”

“An diarrhea the morning after,” Karen snickered.

She quickly looked over her seat again. Frank adjusted the rear vision mirror. Dead to the world, Savannah was fair game.

“Seriously, Dad.”

“Maybe an older friend at school. Other than that, I have no idea.”

“Midtown Montessori goes to grade six. Somehow, I don’t think Dr. Stein has a 12-year-old in mind.”

“I don’t know. Some 12-year-old boys can be well-endowed. Not huge, but big enough. You’d have to supervise, Karen. Make sure Johnny’s part a goes in Savannah’s part b.”

“Savannah’s friends are all gay, Dad. I’m pretty sure they know how to do it.”

“Including?” Frank jerked his thumb over his shoulder, primarily to cover his tracks.

“Savannah, I seriously doubt it. We’ve talked about it.”

“And?”

“She was interested in the mechanics; make that very interested. It worried me at the time.” Karen hesitated. “We need to find someone older.”

“That ‘we’ would be you. No way am I finding someone to take my nine-year-old grandchild’s virginity.”

“But you would if she was older?”

“Not funny. Ask Bruce to do it,” Frank suggested, part joking, mostly sniping. “You have until June 24th. With advance notice, he can probably work it into his schedule.”

“That’s out of line, and you know it.”

“Is it? He saw Savannah naked last Thursday and didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

Karen simmered. “It wasn’t like that, Dad. We needed to switch clothes in a hurry. He had only a few minutes of light left.”

“Long enough to take a dozen photos of Savannah in the buff.”

“It was too good to miss. You had to be there, Dad. Savannah was beautiful, truly gorgeous.”

“What about the extra makeup?”

It wasn’t just the usual moisturizer, foundation, blush, and eye shadow. Karen had gone the extra distance to beautify what was already gorgeous.

“Bruce wanted more coquettish. I emphasized her lips. She looked right, innocent and impassioned, Dad.”

“She looked like a hussy. I would’ve stopped it, had I know it was going to happen.”

Karen took one look at him and exhaled loudly. “El Groucho’s worried about a few harmless photos. Yes, she’s nude, but you can’t see anything.”

 “Why not Bruce?” Frank asked testily, even though he knew the answer. “He’s young, good looking, and gay as a goose.”

“He’s the wrong type, Dad. André Gide said there are three; pederasts, sodomites, and inverts. Savannah’s an invert.”

“That’s up for debate,” Frank interjected, hoping she’d try to debate it.

“Bruce is a sodomite. That leaves the pederast to take care of Sanny,” she finished.

“You know any, besides Stein’s gardener?”

Karen shrugged. “How about you?”

“You think Randal likes effeminate boys?” Frank heard her inhale. “Transgendered, is that better?”

“Brilliant, Dad. Savannah can get fucked and catch AIDS at the same time.”

“Randal has AIDS?” It explained why Randal was racing through life trying to find himself.

“Bruce says he’s promiscuous. He’s also indiscreet about it. Even if he always uses a condom, he’s the last person I want in bed with my kid. He’s also a size queen, if you haven’t noticed.”

“How about Perlmann? He’s very good looking and fit as a fiddle.”

Karen coughed, shaking her head.

“He’s probably too busy making money; but if he can fit it in…” Frank let it hang for a few seconds. “He’s Jewish, so he’ll be circumcised. On the down side, he’s hairy.”

“No, Dad.”

Frank was past caring. “I thought he was into kids?”

“Eric collects photos,” Karen said, no longer trying to sound offhand. “He’s always wanted shots of Savannah bare.”

“There you go; he’s a pedophile.”

“A few photos; that’s as far as it goes; trust me.”

“Still creepy. But he’s your best option. He can take Savannah to San Francisco; better yet, Key West. I think doing it in style is important for the first time.”

Only slightly amused, Karen shook her head.

“It’ll be a great career move.” Frank powered on. “Think about it. If it works out in Key West, you and Savannah can move into his penthouse. Who’s to know?”

“Please, Dad. I work for the guy. I need to figure this out.”

“If you don’t want to move in, you can send Savannah to his place for the weekend. Hanky panky on Friday and Saturday so the poor kid has Sunday to recover.”

Karen ignored him. “The other possibility is Raoul Ramírez. The TOMBOYpost model,” she added in case Frank had forgotten.

Frank laughed. “Do you really want to saddle Savannah with him?”

“I’d rather see her with a 13-year-old Cuban maricón than Perlmann,” Karen said icily.

“I agree. Raoul’s much cuter,’ Frank allowed.

The sheer absurdity of the situation finally caught up with them. They laughed until a little sleepy voice from the back seat asked, ‘What’s up with you guys?’

“Nothing, Honey. Grampa and I are just talking.”

“What about Raoul?”

“Go back to sleep, Sanny,” Frank said loudly.

“Would you like to have sex with him, Savy?” Karen said.

“He’s a bottom, Mom.”

“I’m sure a few times on top won’t be a problem.”

“He not’s very manly.” Savannah hesitated. “If it meant I would have the operation, I guess.”

“It’s either Raoul or Mr. Perlmann, Honey.”

“Uncle Eric wouldn’t be so terrible.” Savannah snickered. “NOT!”

"I won't hear of anything so stupid,” Frank exploded. “No one you've mentioned could possibly give Savannah anything more than physical satisfaction, if that.”

“I agree it would be nice if there was love,” Karen allowed.

“I love him. I’ve loved him since the day he was born.”

Frank took his eyes off the road long enough to look in the rear vision mirror. Savannah wiped away tears, and then sniffled.

“Personally, I think he’s way too young to make the decision. However, I also see how determined he is, you both are.”

“She!” Karen snapped.

“You want my opinion? Raoul will be lucky to get it up long enough to get it in. Perlmann will get it done. He’ll fuck Savannah in the butt until he, she, orgasms, but that’s all.”

“That is the goal, Dad, like it or not.”

“He needs someone who cares enough about him to make love to him.”

“Dad, please, we don’t need histrionics.”

“You’re worried about Randal not being discreet; how about patient and careful enough not to hurt him? This needs painstaking care, and lots of love. No one loves him like I do.”

“I know that, Dad.”

“Let me finish, please. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’ll probably hate me, yet it needs to be said. I really do love him, Karen. I love him enough to make love to him. So there, goddamm it!"

Savannah burst into tears, so upset her iPhone dropped on the floor.

Karen hesitated. “You’re her Grampa,” she finally said.

“What the Hell difference does it make?”

“I know you love her, Dad. Truly. Unconditionally. Totally…”

“I know it’s not supposed to be like this, not with my own grandkid. I can’t help it.”

“Grampa?”

“Hush Savy!” Karen snapped.

“What if I want to hear what she has to say?”

“I already know, Dad! She loves you the same way, only you’ve been too bind to see it. It’s why she cuddles with you.” Her voice cracked. “She’s always kissing on you. At home, it’s always Grampa this and Grampa that.

Savannah’s murmured, “Grampa...”

“It’s been obvious for a long time, Dad,” Karen added, much louder.

“Right now, your only alternative is Stein’s gardener,” Frank said, trying to hide his embarrassment in a joke. “Savannah could lose his virginity and learn Spanish.”

“On the plus side, you’re circumcised. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes; and I speak English.”

Instead of smiling, Karen grasped Frank’s arm. “I’ll think about it on one condition, Dad. From now on it’s she; not he. And if I do agree, you never ever treat her as a boy.”

<<>> 

 They stopped for dinner at Navojoa, Sonora, a little seafood restaurant around the corner from the main street, Calle General Pesqueira. Fast service, not much in salad, but fantastic shrimp dishes. It was taverna-style with a brick-paved floor, painted metal roof, and clunky seats made out of logs. After a prolonged bathroom trip for Savannah and Mom, they were back at the Jeep at ten minutes of nine.

“We could get a room here,” Frank suggested, looking further up the street. There were several neon ‘hotel’ signs.

With a strange smile at Savannah, Karen snatched the car keys from his hand. She was seated in the driver’s seat before Frank realized he was being hugged from behind, two slender arms wrapped very tightly around his grilled-shrimp-filled belly .

“You’re my prisoner, Grampa. You’re riding in back with me.”

“Maybe later, Sanny. Right now, I’m not sleepy.”

“Please Grampa?”

Savannah released him, beaming up, her eyes big and bright, wide-awake and ready to play.

“What are you planning, Brat?”

Savannah grinned under the streetlights, took Frank’s hand, and pulled him to the rear door.

“I’ll be a good teddy bear,” she whispered.

With no warning, she stepped closer, now squeezing Frank’s hand, their bodies so close that he worried someone would see them.

“Really good, or just okay good?” he whispered back, never more aware of her warm little body wriggling against him.

“Really, really good, I promise.”

“No cellphone games? None! Nada! Zipola!”

“I’ll be the bestest teddy bear ever.”

Said like that, who could say no? Frank got in the car. Right away, Savannah cuddled up beside him, alpaca blanket over both of them. He settled back as Karen pulled onto the street, heading north, not caring that hotels with vacancy signs passed by. Soon, the road was dead straight. It went on for mile after mile.

Frank snapped back to consciousness when Savannah’s little hand cupped his balls. He put his hand on top of hers, getting no reaction.

“She’s asleep again,” he said quietly to Karen.

Suddenly, little fingers began rhythmically digging into the crotch of his jeans. A resolute little thumb investigated what was what, initially rubbing, then with thumbnail scratching until she was certain what was under the denim. What seemed like a few seconds raced by as Savannah considered her next move. She started again, exchanging a hot little handful for her thumb and index finger, pinching, kneading, and outright squishing the glans, Savannah-style masturbating of the most sensitive part of her grampa’s penis.

 In just a few seconds, Frank was beyond stopping. Not ready to encourage her, he closed his eyes, moved his hand to her upper thigh, and allowed it to happen. He took deep long breaths, nuzzling long curly hair, drunk on lavender-fresh kid-scent and two glasses of Corona Light.

“You’re a very nice teddy bear,” he whispered.

Savannah stopped squishing when Frank’s penis was rock hard. Somehow, she found enough room to jam her index finger under the glans. Still separated by denim and silky shorts, she pushed down with her thumb, as if torturing his frenulum would stop the constant drool of preseminal fluid from seeping into his boxers.

Incestuous lust roared, just as it roared for Gide; ‘no scruple clouded his pleasure and no remorse followed it.’ Nothing could stop Frank Martin, not even Karen slowing down to a crawl through a roadwork zone. He cautiously replaced his hand on Savannah’s sweaty little hand. He felt her tremble against him, hot and excited.

“Teddy bear wants bare,” Savannah murmured, the side of her face tucked into Frank’s arm, hot moist lips against his chest.

Little by little, Frank guided her fingers to unclasp his cowboy belt buckle. In the darkness, Savannah’s head skewed around and she grinned up at him, just enough light inside the car to enjoy her long hair cascading over his middle. The last thing Frank expected to see was Savannah licking her luscious bee-stung lips with the tip of her oh-so-sexy tongue, just like a little Mexican whore getting ready to suck.

After a minute of trying to unfasten the copper button on her grandfather’s jeans, Savannah flicked his fingers impatiently. Apparently, he had to do it. However, Savannah opened the zipper all by herself, ever so carefully inching it down while Frank entertained himself by caressing her hair. He stopped when hot little fingers crept onto his boxers, exploring faux-silk, finding damp spots. She looked up again, smirking, not needing to ask if it was pee.

Shortly, those same determined little fingers invaded Frank’s boxers, squirming through the fly, making a space to play. Satisfied, she squeezed up against him, tugging his jeans and boxers out of the way, anxious to explore bare skin without clothing in the way. Those four little fingers and thumb were like curious mice, never still. All too soon, her thumb and index finger settled over his glans, resuming torment with every tenuous touch, sending tingles racing down Frank’s very-stiff throbbing cock.

“Icky stuff,” Savannah whispered, not ready to admit she loved playing with the slippery stuff that oozed out.

Again and again, the tip of her littlest finger toyed with Frank’s meatus. If it was dry, her other fingers took over, squishing his swollen glans, extracting beads of fluid, which she then rubbed around and around until slippery turned sticky. Long minutes at a time, no frantic rush to finish, infinite delight verging on irritation. With Savannah, it paid to be patient, very patient.

Frank was about to doze off when Savannah changed the rules. Her hand took hold of his and pushed it down to her middle. If that wasn’t clear enough, she patted his hand to show he had her permission.

Frank grinned in the darkness.

“Finally, I get to play with my teddy bear,” he whispered, now lovingly cupping the little bulge.

His hand didn’t stay long, just enough to feel a stiff stubby penis, and playfully squeeze both little peanuts. By moving his hand a few inches higher, he slipped his fingers between her slender bare belly and loose TOMBOY Range jeans. Bikini briefs, he simply poked down and out of the way.

With Savannah’s hard hot penis contained in his fist, he squeezed.

“Teddy D. Bear wants harder,” she murmured, alter-ego in play.

With his thumb squashing the plump little glans against the side of his index finger, he worked from the top down, squeezing as hard as he could. It wasn’t the first time he worried that he’d burst a blood vessel. The important thing was giving Savannah what she wanted more than anything else. He felt her quiver against him, her thighs twitching, jaws clamping together. Forcing the blood out had to hurt like the dickens. However, nine-year-old girls didn’t have erections.

“Are you awake back there, Dad?” Karen inquired.

She must’ve heard Savannah’s whimper—her gender identity came with pain, not ecstasy.

“Barely,” he murmured, still squeezing out the remaining hardness.

“I’ve been thinking about what to do, Dad. Your solution is really the only one. You and Savannah need to spend a few weeks together,” she said very quietly.

It was so unexpected, Frank gulped. “Be serious, Karen.”

Satisfied until the next unwanted erection presented itself, Savannah grasped Frank’s penis about halfway down, slowly sliding up and down. A half-dozen strokes later, her thumb began gently caressing the exposed knob. After a few moments, she squeezed the glans again, now scraping with her thumbnail, smearing his juice onto the palm of her hand.

 “Dad, I’m not trying to pry. I know, okay. It’s why you never remarried.”

Karen waited again, plenty of time for him to say something.

“You’re absolutely right; no man will ever love Savannah more than you do.”

“You know anyone better qualified?” Then, Frank waited.

“I know how this must sound. I trust you to do this the right way, Dad.”

“I have no idea what to do,” Frank muttered, not regretting his offer, just very embarrassed.

“Dr. Stein said to use their T-G app along with her T-G Kit.”

“We’re talking about sodomy, Karen! An app’s not going to cut it!”

“Even if you’re a bit clumsy, it’s the best thing for her, for all of us.”

“How do you figure that?”

Hidden under the alpaca blanket, Savannah finally nudged his hand away from her now-very-limp penis. Too much pressure, Frank presumed, yet he soon realized why. She was actually holding onto boyhood, smearing his juice on her ‘boy-thing.’ That was a first!

“For one thing, I know she’s safe with you. You’ll be caring and compassionate at the most important time of her life. Any way you look at it, it’s win-win.”

“The more I think about it...”

Suddenly, Frank wasn’t sure where he was going with it. If he didn’t do it, there’d be no operation. Maybe, he should backtrack a bit and work up to ‘no’, or say ‘no’ outright and be done with it. All Savannah had to do was give the slightest sign, or say the wrong word. Even a teensy rumor, and their lives were ruined.

Fortunately, Karen didn’t allow him to finish. “You’ll do both of us a big favor, Dad. Except for a photo shoot with Raoul, and a fashion show in Los Angeles, Savannah can spend June with you. Dr. Stein can do the operation on schedule.”

Like buying beef futures when he had all of 190 head, Frank still hedged.

“You’re sure all I have to do is follow their damned app?”

She smiled, on the verge of laughing. “I don’t want to know what happens; just make it happen as soon as possible.”

“What about after the operation?”

“July 5th onwards is packed. She has the Home on the Range Extravaganza in Denver, the Roundup Show in Albuquerque, a photo shoot with Raoul in Naples, Florida; and Eric wants both of them in New York for a preview of TOMBOY Rock.”

“Exactly when and where is she going to recover?”

“At your place, of course. June 24th to July 4th is almost two weeks.”

Before Frank could stop himself, he blurted out, “What happens afterwards?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, you’re wasting valuable time, Dad.”

Before Frank could say a word, Savannah giggled. “Grampa, stop talking and tickle Teddy.”

 “Why don’t we let Nature take over and see what happens, Dad?” Karen said, almost a whisper.

Frank took the dangling worm like a foolhardy bass. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”

“Well, it is Savannah’s bedtime. You could help by taking off her clothes.”

“In the car?”

“I’m not comfortable all scrunched up in tight jeans, Grampa.”

By then, they were nearing the outskirts of Ciudad Obregón, a gritty desert city of 400,000. It wasn’t romantic, definitely not the place Frank would choose to make love to anybody for the first time, especially Savannah.

“Maybe later.”

Whether playing on her iPhone or playing with her grampa, Savannah stayed clothed all the way through Ciudad Obregón. As tempting as it was with a motherly carte blanche, stripping her naked, even under a blanket, with her mom only a few feet away, bothered Frank far more than he ever expected.

<<>> 

Just north of Ciudad Obregón, on the way to the ocean-side town of Guaymas, Sonora, Frank Martin confiscated Savannah’s iPhone. After she stopped complaining, he introduced her to a different kind of cuddling. Two hours of gentle smooching and snuggling, hugging and whispering, playful caresses, stroking hair, and tickling bare skin. Frank added an occasional wet kiss to show how much he loved her. Not French, it was too soon to swap spit with Karen sitting in the driver’s seat. For the same reason, it was also too soon to openly fondle private parts.

“You two are very quiet back there,” Karen said after turning off Mexican radio, an endless Latino fiesta.

“We’re taking it a step at a time,” Frank said, feeling awkward. “I do have a question, though.”

“Okay.”

“You said you didn’t want to know what happens, and I appreciate that...”

“With something like this, it’s safer if no one else knows, Dad. Including me.”

There was risk even if Savannah never told anyone; even if only Frank and Karen knew what was up, someone might still notice. It wasn’t just teachers and doctors trained to spot sex–abuse victims. There were too many busybodies trying to run other peoples’ lives, do-gooders on constant lookout, people in search of fame, who wanted to expose pedophiles on Youtube videos…

Commonsense said to let his most pressing concern go. He couldn’t.

 “I know I promised ‘she’ not ‘he,’ he continued. “But when it’s right in front of my face, I just can’t ignore it.”

“Oh, that!”

“Off limits, or not?”

“Use your best judgment, Dad.”

What more could she say? Feel free to play with Savannah’s boy-bits, but pretend they didn’t exist.

“I expect the basics are in that app, whatever it’s called.”

“You really need instructions, Dad?”

“How often should I check the oil?” Frank very nearly laughed; imagining using a dipstick in Savannah’s cute little butt. Crazy!

Karen did laugh, glad that precocious Savannah wasn’t *that* advanced.

“If you asked what kind of grease you should use, I could tell you. After being around Bruce and Eric, I knew more about being gay than most gay students at SCAD,” she admitted.