Miley was nine years old when I met her. I was ten.

Although they were located on opposite sides of the country, both of our fathers were in upper management of a large American corporation (you would recognize the name). The corporation arranged it's annual planning meeting in Hawaii and booked rooms and flights for the executives who attended. Arrangements were also made for the executives to bring their family members, (at their own expense, of course, although reduced rates had been negotiated in advance). And it was accepted practice for meeting attendees to arrange for vacations before or after the meeting to stay on for a couple of weeks in the sun.

That year was the first time my dad was invited to the conference, and my first visit to Hawaii. My dad met Miley's dad at the conference and they became friends. Ever since, they had planned their vacations to match, so in a way, Miley and I "grew up together"

Our families would go to meals together several times, spend evenings playing Monopoly and Scrabble, cards, etc. Miley and I would play together on the beach, take surfboard lessons, together, etc. When I was ten, I figured she was OK for a girl, and put up with her. We had our squabbles, but after a couple of years were acting pretty much like brother and sister.

When I was fifteen, something happened that changed our relationship. Our families had driven to the North Shore of the Big Island to surf the big waves. Miley and I were in the back seat of one car, chattering like kids do. Both of us were wearing our swimsuits under our regular clothes. Arriving at the beach, our parents went off to make inquiries from the 'locals' about where the best place was to surf, etc. Miley and I decided to get ready, so we both stepped out of the car and stripped down to our swimming gear. Together we moved to the back of the car to get our surfboards off of the car-rack.

It was like being hit by a thunderbolt when I rounded the car and saw her, reaching up for the surfboard. She was wearing a bikini, comprised of three small triangles of material held in place by some string. I could only stand there and stare as she was untying the cords on the surfboard.

What had happened to the little girl I had known for the past five years? The one I'd played in the sand with and splashed and teased? Where did this . . . . nymph . . . come from?

Her breasts under her bikini weren't particularly large, but they were definite! Her nondescript middle had slimmed down to almost nothing and her hips, although narrow, still they flared out from her tiny waist. And her legs! Her legs seemed to run from her the sand to her chin!

Unable to loosen board from its bindings, she turned to me to demand my help. She froze in mid sentence as she saw me staring, open mouthed, at her breasts. Suddenly embarrassed, I think she was about to tell me off, but suddenly, her jaw dropped open as she saw the bulge that was growing inside my tight, racer swimsuit. Both of us stood mesmerized, staring, for what seemed an eternity. Miley came to her senses first and grabbed two towels. One, she draped in front of her and she tossed the other to me, which I quickly wrapped around my waist.

Now that both of us were 'covered', our eyes met and we both stared at the other. As if by mutual consent, our eyes dropped to the sand.

"I'm not sure I feel like swimming today," she muttered.

"I don't think I feel up to it either," I agreed.

Each of us returned to our side of the car and put on our 'street clothes'. When our parents came back, they noticed there had been a change between us, but said nothing. Although our parents did some surfing, we simply enjoyed a picnic on the beach for the rest of the afternoon,

From that day on, Miley never wore a swimsuit in my presence. And I began to notice the pattern that she almost never wore shorts, preferring blouses and skirts or occasionally long pants. Soon, Miley stopped wearing sleeveless blouses, and generally wore long sleeve blouses. Soon, I began dressing more 'modestly'. I avoided bathing suits, and shorts. Whenever I wore a tee shirt, I always wore a regular shirt over it, often open and not tucked in.

Over the next couple of years, we continued a somewhat self-conscious but correct friendship. We never dated each other, but we often went on double dates. Frequently, when she was asked out, she would ask me to come along, making it a 'double date'. I think she took me along so I could protect her if she needed it.

At home, Miley's dad decided it was time we learned to play poker with poker chips. Shortly after we learned the basics, Miley and I realized that he almost always won. When we asked him about this, he began explaining how people gave 'signs' when playing poker. When one learns to read the signs, it ceases to be a game of chance but rather becomes a game of skill of reading body language. For example: Miley's mom would start playing with her necklace whenever she got a good hand. When my dad scratched his head, we knew he was bluffing.

One evening at dinner, our parents invited Fedor, a police lieutenant on the Hawaiian Police Department (the famous "Hawaii 50"). Fedor was a surprisingly small man, but very happy with a friendly smile. Toward the end of the evening, Miley shared with us that a boy at school was often taking hold of her arm or hand and she didn't like it. She asked Fedor what she could do to keep him from 'pawing' her without reporting him to the school officials and making lots of trouble.

Fedor showed her how to give a karate chop and told her when he grabbed her arm, to give his wrist a karate chop, as hard as she could, and then to apologize profusely explaining that it was an accident and she didn't mean to hit him so hard. Fedor guaranteed that the boy would think twice before he touched her again.

He went on to suggest that the two of us should take a 'self defense' course he taught at a local Judo academy. He carefully explained that there was a definite difference between "self defense" and Judo or Karate or any of the other standard martial arts.

Miley and I enrolled together for several months. Fedor taught that self defense tactics should never be used unless absolutely necessary. "It is not a game. Don't use it unless you mean it," Fedor stressed. "And if you use self defense tactics, that means you must incapacitate the other person as quickly as possible, never giving him a chance. If he can stand up after you've attached him, you have to expect he will be stronger than you and will defeat you."

Toward the end of the course, Fedor brought in an associate who must have been the biggest man I have ever seen. This giant put on body armor and both Miley and I practiced our skills using full contact. Fedor made us repeat the exercises over and over because we weren't putting our body into it and weren't hitting hard enough. Finally, he was finally satisfied.