Shelter, Chapter 6

by Glassbottom

"You," Mrs. Pike said to Billie. "What are you doing here? I told you you couldn't be coming in here no more."

"This is my mom," Billie said proudly, hugging onto me. And I hugged onto her as well, hugged her to my side.

"Oh, well, I guess that's different," Mrs. Pike said, "for today. But for all the days I catch her smoking out front or trying to buy stuff out of the machines even though she doesn't give me any laundry business, I think you oughta know."

"Well, well," I said, "Billie," turning to her, turning on a serious face, using a stern tone, "what about all of this? Have you really been hanging out over here, causing this nice lady trouble?"

"But… but… but Mom," Billie said, looking into my eyes with a frightened look and really playing it up, "I just come here to get sodie pop or water when I'm thirsty."

"What about the smoking?" I asked her. "Didn't I tell you it's bad for you?"

"It's bad for you, too, Mama." she said, and I swear that was the first time I ever saw Mrs. Pike crack a smile. "I just do it 'cause Mona does it and the other girls – "

"Those girls are older," I said, "but when you're not around them you're still smoking, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said, and I swear that she sounded on the verge of tears. I was good, I suppose, because I was always better at play-acting, but she was real good, almost too good.

"You're going to have to be punished."

Billie sat down and hung her head.

"No."

"I'm afraid so," I said. "Girl, you are getting a good whippin' this time."

"Not many people have the courage to do that these days," Mrs. Pike said. "Sometimes a good whipping is just what a child needs. You gotta break that will to do wrong."

She disappeared into the back room. Billie smiled at me from the bucket chair. I smiled back.

"For now," I spoke up, "you come on over and I'll get you something to drink."

We stepped in front of the drink machine. Lots of pop. I was surprised when she picked something halfway healthy, lemonade. When she got it, she started drinking it down so fast, it dribbled down her cheeks. She went and sat down in time for Mrs. Pike to return from the back.

"Well, you two have a good day," she said. "And you," she patted Billie's head, "try not to worry. It'll be over quick. My mother used to beat me every day and look at me."

We watched her leave and I shook my head. I went and sat down next to Billie.

"You were amazing," I said. "You're a good actress."

"It was fun," she said. "I like pretending."

Billie kicked off her flip-flops, edged forward in her chair and stretched those smooth, amazing legs out in front of her. She tipped her head back and sucked at the bottle of lemonade. She took the bottle from her lips and sighed.

If anybody else would have done this, it would not have been as sexy as Billie doing it, but she had something…

"So, I'm curious," I said, "what exactly does Mona know?"

"I told you," Billie said. "you don't have to worry about it."

"But I do," I said. "I saw the way she was looking at me, and then – "

"She said the whole thing makes her 'hot'," Billie said.

"Does she know I touched you?"

"No."

Billie looked frustrated with me. She jumped up out of the chair and walked to the for mica table and then turned to face me. "I told her you rescued me and bought me ice cream and told me I was pretty. She started getting lots of ideas about it, and then when you come to the car wash today and I did my thing for you, she just thought that was crazy."

"Crazy good," I asked, "or crazy bad?"

"Good," Billie said. "And she thinks you're a real pretty woman."

"Do you think I'm a pretty woman?"

"Georgia," she said, walking over to me, taking my hands and looking deep into my eyes, finishing with a whisper, "I think you're beautiful." I shivered under that unyielding gaze of hers.

A long day that had begun so early had passed into the dinner hour, and I was with my fantasy girl. I didn't want to end our time together, but I thought…

"It's getting late, sweetheart," I said. "I don't want you to go, but it is dinner time. If you have someplace to be, you should go."

"I got no place," she said, looking sad. "I wanna be with you, Georgia." She turned from me and spun around a couple of times, as if to shake off what she was feeling. "You know what I wanna do? I wanna go on pretendin'. I wanna pretend that you're my mama and I'm your little girl helpin' you with laundry. And after that, if you want, you can take me out for somethin' to eat or…

"…you can take me home and I'll help you put the laundry away and you can cook us somethin' for dinner. You can give me that whippin' too if you want."

I caught the look on her face as she turned to me. I thought she may be joking but she wasn't even smiling.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Billie," I said. "The rest of it sounds like a real good time, just as long as you're sure it's OK for you to be gone at dinner time and coming home with me."

"It's not OK," she said, "but I don't care."

I took a handful of quarters and went around to the dryers, checking the clothes. They all needed some extra minutes. I added some time. Then I turned to Billie and hugged her. She hugged me back. We went and sat back in the bucket chairs and then Billie got out of her chair and climbed up on my lap. It was a bit warm for such a thing, and she was a little bit old to be sitting on my lap just for the hell of it, but I didn't care.

I put my arm around her, held her close, stroked her shoulder, ran my fingers through her damp curls while… with the other hand I caressed her knees, her thighs, feeling a tingle that ran dead center as I touched her. She snuggled against me, drawing her legs up, leaning her head against my chest, and her far hand reached up and touched my opposite shoulder, then traveled down. I felt and saw her finger trace a circle around it and then her hand gently cupped my breast, palming the hard nipple.

"I love you, Mommy," she said.

The words drove a stake through my heart. I didn't know what to say. I supposed we were acting, but I was a mother and I had heard those words before. It was hard to hear them, especially the way she said them, all snuggled up to me, all warm, literally clinging to my breast, her voice so soft and full of innocent emotion.

"I… love you too, Billie," I answered, helpless against the silence, and I reached down and held her closer, held her and rocked her, held her like she needed it.

I held her for a very long time, until the machines went quiet again.

"Billie," I said, "the clothes."

She sat up and climbed off my lap. She was quiet. She followed me. She helped me unload the machines, and when we began folding, I found out what a pro she was.

"Are you kiddin'?" she shook her head. "I've had tons of practice foldin' clothes. When my mother was passed out drunk, I was doin' the laundry when I was eight… nine years old."

Evidently, she had stepped out of character. That was OK. I needed the break.

"I did lots of stuff," Billie said. "I cleaned the bathroom. I had to. And now… I just wish she would stop and talk to me and say somethin', but she's too busy with her meetings."

I felt bad. I had a mom who treated me like shit. Billie had a mom who ignored her. I guess I could relate to her.

"I'm sorry, Billie," I said. "Well, whenever you want me to pretend, I'll be your mom, OK?"

"It doesn't work that good," she said.

We finished folding and hanging up the clothes and we moved them to the car. I let her have one of my cigarettes and I managed to get her bike in my trunk. We smoked together in the car as we started off for my apartment.

"Georgia, I decided something," Billie said.

"What's that?" I asked her.

"I want to run away and live with you."

The words came out as if she were telling me she wanted to buy a candy bar or maybe have a drag off my smoke. They just rolled off her tongue and out of her mouth like she just expected me to say Yes without an argument.

"You want to run away and - ?"

"Yes," she replied, before I could completely repeat the question. "And you can do whatever you want to me. I give you my permission."

"Wait just a minute," I said. "I can't just take you into my – "

"Run away with me then," she said, taking a drag. "It will be an adventure."

"Why all of this?" I asked her. "Why do you want to run away?"

"I can't talk about it," she said.

"Well, if you can't talk about it, how am I supposed to know there's a good reason?"

She looked out the window at the scenery going by, not at me. She took one last puff and flipped her cigarette out the window. Tough little girl.

"I know you want my body," she said. "Why won't you take me and run, Georgia?"

"Because we'd get caught, Billie." We got to my apartment and she helped me upstairs with the laundry. She was quiet. For a while, I thought she may have been defeated, but I had to remember who I was up against. This was Billie we were talking about.

"I really don't have much," I said. "Is macaroni and cheese OK?"

"I'll even make it," Billie said, and she proceeded to get out a pot and boil some water. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead."

I was putting away my clothes, everything in its place, when she came out and found me in the bedroom. Billie in my bedroom, yes, but all a bit too real at the moment.

"Nice tub," she said. "Maybe I could take a bath here some time."

"Maybe."

"You sure have a lot of candles around here. It smells nice."

"Thank you."

"Who are those people?" she asked, pointing to the photos on my dresser.

"Well, that's me and my… " I started, but I didn't go on.

Billie stepped closer and looked at the pictures.

"You were married and… you had kids. You had a daughter?"

"Yes," I said, "I had a daughter."

"But you – "

"Don't go there," I said. "Let's not talk about my family, OK? You won't tell me what's going on, why you want to run away, so I have the right to stay shut up too."

We went to the kitchen together. She went first and I followed, staring at her behind in those tight jean shorts.

"Is the water boiling yet?"

"Not yet," she said.

I turned her around and I lifted her up and set her up on the kitchen counter. It was just an impulse. I pulled her close to the edge and reached around and grabbed her pert round buttocks. She breathed hard, grinding against me as I pressed my body against hers with her legs spread about me. My mouth reached to kiss hers, but she spoke first.

"I been so bad, Mama."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

"You gonna whip me now, Mama, or after dinner?"

"You don't need a whipping," I said.

"But I've been so bad," she said, her voice breathless. "You gotta do it."

"You want me to do it?" I asked her.

"Yes."

I took her down off the counter and carried her into the other room. I sat down on the couch and I threw her across my lap, positioning her remarkable behind right where I could smack it.

"Take my shorts down."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. My panties too. You have to do it right."

She raised up so I could take her shorts and underwear down and as I did I marveled at the flesh that appeared before me, the two perfect, smooth little globes of girl ass. God, I didn't want to whip them, spank them, or smack them. I wanted only to caress them, press my lips to them…

"I can't do it." "Spank me, Mama," she said.

I took a moment. She wanted it. I felt the globes with my hands and fondled them. I closed my eyes and raised one hand. I brought it down.

SMACK.

"Harder, Mama. That wasn't nothin'."

I tried. SMACK.

"Fuckin' beat my ass, Mama!" she growled at me.

I took all the poison in me I could muster and I raised my hand and I let loose, I let loose like she wanted me to, let loose until I couldn't do it anymore, until I was sobbing, looking down at her red butt cheeks and saying:

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Billie said, climbing off my lap and pulling up her shorts. "You didn't do anything wrong."

The girl hadn't even shed a tear. She walked into the kitchen and ripped open the macaroni box and dumped the macaroni into the boiling water, giving it a quick stir with the pasta spoon I handed her.

"I'm confused, Billie," I said.

"How do you think I feel?" she asked me. "You know…"

"What?" I said.

"At least if she would beat me I'd know if I did somethin' wrong," Billie said.

"Maybe us being together, you and me, ain't such a good idea," I said.

"Oh, that's what you say now," Billie said, "but I dare you to try and stay away from me."

Not much more was said. We sat and ate the macaroni and cheese. I escorted her down to the car, got her bike out of the trunk because she insisted on riding home. "I know where you live now," she said. "So long, Georgia," she called out, riding her bike in a long circle, "and have a happy fourth of July!"

I watched her ride off and I walked to the stairway, climbed up to the balcony, lighting a smoke. I buried my head in my arms.

I was in total denial. Just try and stay away from that girl, I dare you. Yeah, that was for sure. Good luck.

(TO BE CONTINUED)