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Running his hands over my chest, back, and stomach he said, let's take this off and try the pants. As he pulled down my pants he reached around and rubbed my butt, which made me giggle again. As I stepped out of my pants Robert held me by my upper thighs. As I pulled my leg out of the pants, his fingers slid under my underwear and squeezed my butt cheeks. I see you like that, Robert said quietly. Puzzled, I looked down to ask what he meant. That's when I noticed my little dick was getting hard. Please don't tell my mom, I begged. Squeezing my cheeks tighter Robert said, I won't tell her anything about it if you won't. With his fingers still in my underwear Robert slid his hands around to my front. I started shaking I was so nervous, but as soon as his fingers touched my balls, I giggled again. Pressing his fingers under my balls he asked, do you play with it. Shocked, I quickly said no. My mom said it was wrong. Holding my underwear he said, let's take these off. My heart beat faster. As Scott rounded the corner he thought he saw a tear fall down her dingy cheek. Scott hurried to his car, anxious to erase the memory of The Little Candle Girl. But as he headed once more toward the Mill Street Bridge, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Everything about the scene, the archaic clothes, the weird location, the makeshift box, seemed impossible and Scott wondered if he had simply dreamed the entire thing up. Also creeping through his consciousness was a present his grandmother had given him as a child. It was his first picture book, and one of the most poignant images was the visage of a forlorn little girl, holding a clump of matches in her hand. Matches…That was it! The story was called The Little Match Girl, and it was Scott’s favorite throughout childhood. In his head, he came up with the sequence of the story pretty well until he reached the ending. All Scott could remember was that it was sad, very sad. As a matter of fact, he still recalled crying his eyes out.
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