Shelter, Chapter 8

by Glassbottom

There are things I don't remember, and there are things I would just as soon forget, about the fourth of July. On the whole, it was one of those days that would have been better if I would have just stayed in bed and felt sorry for myself or dreamed nasty dreams.

Instead, I decided to get up and face the day, and we all know what evil can come of that.

There is one moment, however, I do not regret, however uncomfortable, however awkward, and that is the moment I woke up on a front porch swing with my head in a little girl's lap.

Oh, she was beautiful, gloriously beautiful, in a familiar way... just something about her. But she had these gorgeous hazel eyes and tanned round cheeks and brown hair that hung down over her face as I looked up at her. She couldn't have been any older than eight, if that.

She was petting my brow so gently with tiny little fingers, and under my head was a smooth, fleshy pillow of thigh.

"Hi," she said, trying to whisper, but her voice cracked, a pretty little voice. "Are you OK, lady?"

"I... I guess... " I said. And it was true. There were no after-effects. There were no after-effects except I didn't remember a goddam thing about what happened after the little boy left me.

Yeah, that's right... the little boy...

"I don't remember how I got here," I told her.

"My mama tol' me you might wake up kinda lost," the little girl said.

"I thought maybe I was dreaming," I said, "or maybe I died."

"You ain't in Heaven, lady," the girl grinned. I looked up at her, that pretty smile with a missing tooth on either side. I smiled back at her. "You're on our front porch."

"You can call me Georgia, sweetheart, and I could be in heaven. You look like an angel."

She blushed. Innocence.

"I ain't no angel," she said. "I'm a little brat most of the time."

"Who says?" I asked playfully, lifting my head up and looking in those amazing hazel eyes. "You tell me who it is and I'll beat 'em up for you..."

"Well, ma'am, I don't think you wanna do that," she said. "You see, it's my big sister Billie, and you'd get in an awful lot of trouble for beatin' her up, huh?"

"Billie..." it just came out, just came out before I could stop it. "Billie's your big sister?"

Like the whole fucking day.

......

There are things one should avoid when one is separated from ones family. Family holidays, family gatherings, family picnics... the fourth of July.

I got out of bed with the best of intentions, to avoid all contact with people, with anything that could bring up memories both good and bad, and to not think about Billie. I was to avoid her at all costs.

She was a temptation and a toxin at the same time. I could not bring myself to touch her. She wanted too much from me. More important, she made me want too much from myself.

And I wasn't willing to give of myself at all.

God, why couldn't I have just got it all out of my system that first time? That first time, parked in my car in the old factory graveyard? Why not just have at her? Tear her clothes off? Lick and suck at her little pussy? Get her to do the same to me? Just do it all and fuck her and be done with it!

Maybe I just wasn't that kind of predator...

But I had some food and I had some whiskey, and as it turned out, the whiskey was probably a bad idea.

But nothing would have happened if John hadn't called me. "Georgia, hi, this is John," he said.

"John," I said, still half-asleep, puffing on my cigarette, "I didn't think we were on speaking terms."

"Don't get me started on you, you filthy degenerate," he said. "I should let my attorney or the state handle this, but I thought a call from me might get more action."

"The child support," I said. "I know it's a little behind. My job laid me off. Unemployment makes you wait a week so I'm a week behind. I'll catch up."

"Oh, you bet you will," he said. "We wouldn't want information to leak out."

I could feel it creep up my spine. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I got up from the table so fast that the chair flipped over.

"You can't... you can't do that!" I cried into the phone, my voice shaking. "I was never charged... never... found guilty of anything..."

"That doesn't mean you aren't guilty in the eyes of God."

"You talk to me about God while you're trying to extort money from me."

"Extort? How about just doing the right thing, Georgia?"

"And leaking information?"

"You're the one who seems to have a guilty conscience. Information could be anything, right? Just a warning."

And he hung up. And I felt sick. Very sick. I put the phone down and I ran to my bathroom and I fell over the toilet and I heaved. There wasn't much in my stomach, but what was there I lost.

I went from there into the shower and I tried to clean off the sweat of the night and the dirt of what I was feeling, the creepiness of my ex-husband's voice, the guilt of my past that stuck to me like a thick syrup. I washed, I scrubbed, I nearly drew blood...

After I was finished, I dried my hair and sat very still in the bedroom on my bed, thinking about what I was going to do, planning out my day.

I needed a drink first.

Or two. Or three.

I ate some food first. I didn't want to be sick. I knew I had an empty stomach. I ate some sandwiches and chips and then I opened the bottle and poured.

Where would she be that day? Would she be at the Youth Center? Maybe somewhere nearby? Wherever it was, once and for all, I was going to have her and feel nothing. That way, no matter what happened to me, no matter what John did to me, I could say to myself that I had hunted Billie down. And no matter what she would try to make me feel, I would force my heart not to listen. It would be flesh for the sake of the flesh, and that alone...

But you see, I knew I would need alcohol for that. I knew that she had that way of talking to me, taking me under her spell, but if I was drunk, then maybe, just maybe, I could get around her words, get around those eyes that looked into your soul.

In the heat of the afternoon, amidst the rowdies and loonies of the Independence Day crowd, I went looking for Billie. I was driving, I was drunk, and I still had the bottle with me. I was operating with no moral compass whatsoever. The truth was that I drove fairly well, but I hate to think what my blood level would have shown had I been caught that afternoon.

The police were busy that day though, the way they have their hands full most every fourth of July I would imagine, leaving good ol' Georgia to slip through the cracks.

I drove to the Youth Center and I parked. I took a drink from my bottle and put it back under the seat. I didn't see anyone around. I lit a cigarette. I waited. I had a few more drinks from the bottle.

Hell, it seemed like even the kids with no place to go had somewhere to go today. I realized I didn't see any bikes and only one car, probably one volunteer minding the shop. I couldn't be sure. I wasn't going to stick my head in the door, drunk as I was.

That was when the boy came along.

I have to say that as boys go he was cute. He was probably about eleven, slender with his t-shirt tied around his waist, and he had dirty blonde hair and he bounced a basketball. I watched him approach the basketball court and begin playing by himself. I wondered why he had no friends with him or why he wasn't with family.

That's when a couple of girls did appear from the door of the Youth Center, teenagers. I was hoping maybe one of those girls was Billie's cousin Mona, but no such luck. These girls appeared to be a little more upper class than most of the kids I had seen hanging out down there, and they were carrying themselves with the clothes and hair and attitudes to prove it.

"Hey, Tommy Lipton," one of the girls said, taking a snotty tone. "Can't find anyone to play with?"

"There isn't anybody," the other girl said. "The zoo is closed today."

Both girls laughed hysterically. Oh yeah. Very funny. The boy ignored them. Good for him, I thought. Don't listen to people who think they are better than you!

"We'll play with you, won't we, Janice?"

"Oh, sure."

Of course their idea of play was stealing the ball and playing keep away. That's exactly what they did. And Tommy was obviously not a fighter. He turned red and frustrated and began to look more and more like an idiot, beginning to cry as they goaded him.

Of course, drunken Georgia could not let this go on.

I got out of the car and I approached the girls, walking slowly and carefully, chewing on a mint from my purse, trying my best to disguise my drunkenness. I think I did all right.

"Well, well, well..." I said, "you know I remember this crap from my childhood. I suppose you two think you're being really smart, don't you?"

"Who are you?" the girl who wasn't Janice said. "Are you his Mommy?"

"No, I'm just someone who can kick your fucking asses. Now give him the ball, little bitch."

The look she gave me was priceless.

"I know," I said. "What right do I have to talk to you like that. Right? Well, I think Tommy has the right to come down here and shoot baskets without having a couple of phony ass rich bitches treating him like shit."

Well, I really thought I was doing some good. Then Janice threw the ball for distance. It went over a fence into someone's yard. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could do except say:

"Oh, you should be proud, girls, and your mothers should be proud too."

"Fuck you, you drunk old bitch," the girl who wasn't Janice said.

I stood there with Tommy. I watched him go through all the emotions of what had just happened as the girls walked away. Oh yeah, I did remember that so well. Too well. And here I was, the hero, trying to step in, and I lost his ball for him.

"Listen, Tommy," I said. "I can get you another ball. Today the store is probably closed, but tomorrow – "

"Why do they do that?" he glared, red in the face. He was shaking violently. "I just want to kill them. I just want to get a knife and stab their guts!"

"Relax," I said, touching his shoulder. "Not everybody's like that.

"Listen. Why are you out here playing by yourself anyway? Don't you have any friends? Where's your family?"

"I have one friend and he's out of town," Tommy said softly, looking down. "My mom is dead and... my dad is working."

"I see," I said. "Well, I came down here because I was looking for someone. Maybe you can help me. Her name is Billie. She's a really pretty little girl about your age, maybe a little younger. Brown curly hair with lots of other colors in it..."

"Billie Dean?" Tommy replied. His eyes lit up, like he might have had a bit of a crush on her.

"I guess. Do you know where she might be today?"

"Well, um... what do you want her for?" "I... I'm a friend of the family and – "

"Then why don't you go to her house?" Tommy asked me.

He had me there. Oh, yeah, I had thought out that answer real well! What next? He knew who she was and he liked her. Maybe I could work that.

"Okay, I lied," I said. "You like her, don't you? You think she's cute?"

Tommy looked down and blushed so bright it was sweet.

"She's nice to me," Tommy said.

I thought about Billie and I could see that, I could see her being nice to a boy like Tommy, not someone like her but still an outsider like her, someone who didn't fit.

Goddam it, what was I doing? Thinking... feeling... all shit!

"So, can I give you a ride home, Tommy?" I asked him. Maybe a bribe would do it. A ride and some cash.

"Are you okay to drive?" Tommy asked me.

"How far do you live?"

"Three blocks."

"I'll walk you home."

"I'm not a baby."

"I'm not saying you are," I said. "I just want to give you some money for the ball and maybe a little bit more if you'll tell me what I want to know."

"You want to know where Billie is today," he said. "How would I know?"

"Tell me where she lives, then."

We walked. He was reluctant. He wanted to know why. Why did I want to know? My God... what could I tell him? We got to his house. He unlocked the door and he let me inside. He turned to me.

"It's a secret, Tommy," I said. "OK?"

"A secret?"

"I'll give you some money," I said. "Here." I put down my purse and I sat down on the couch and I pulled some cash out of my wallet. "Here you go."

That was when I noticed, and had I truly been observant, I would have seen it all along, that he had been staring at my tits inside my blouse. Leaning down with no bra, I saw that he was looking down my low neckline on my oversized blouse.

"Hey, Tommy," I said to him, "how about this?"

And I took my top off.

The boy was shocked at first, I could see it. He stared at them. He blushed then, and he looked away.

"No no no, it's OK, Tommy, come have a closer look," I said. "Sit down. Don't be shy. I saw you trying to look at them so I wanted to show them to you."

He came and sat down on the couch next to me and I squeezed my tits for him, showed him how stiff the nipples got when I touched them.

"Do you like them," I asked, "or are you one of those men who thinks a woman has to have great big boobs?"

"I like them," he said.

"If I let you touch them, will you tell me where Billie lives?" I asked him.

"I guess so... I... " he hesitated.

I took his hands and I placed them on my tits. I just let him explore them, feel his way around them. He smiled. He turned red, not a blushing red but a different kind of flush. He was not a girl, but there was still something arousing about it. He was discovering, touching female breasts for the first time, and at such a young age.

I noticed that he shifted a little bit, the way he was sitting, and it made me curious. I reached down and felt his crotch. It made him jump.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted to see if you have a boner," I said. "You do."

It was true. It wasn't very big, but it was very stiff, and I knew he had got it from touching me.

"Oh, that," he said. "Sometimes it gets like that."

"Can I play with it for you?"

He looked at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.

"You don't play with it?" I asked him.

"No."

I reached down with both hands and unzipped his jeans and I unbuttoned them while he watched me. He lifted up and let me take his pants and underwear down.

"How old are you, Tommy?" I asked him. I took a gentle grip on his four inch, hairless erection and began stroking it.

"Eleven," he said, looking down at what I was doing to his penis, reacting to it with just a bit of a flutter in his voice.

"When was your birthday?"

"May," he told me. He was still touching my tits, playing with the nipples now, and I had to admit that it felt good.

Tommy was young. He had never masturbated. He had never been with a girl. What could I do? What could I do so he would never forget me? And he would be sure to give me Billie's address...

I moved off the couch, dropped to my knees, and I began to lick the boy's balls. He could do nothing but look down at me, and his flesh was moving at my touch. He was not prepared for any of this. If he knew about any of this, it was only in whispers, not in pictures.

"That feel good, Tommy?" I asked.

"It feels... very good..." Tommy said. He was breathing funny and flushed beat red.

"What about this?"

I opened my mouth and took his little penis in my mouth. I worked my mouth over it deep and began to suck and bob my mouth up and down as I caressed his balls with my fingers.

I knew it wouldn't take long. I didn't want it to. I sucked him gentle but fast. His hips began to rock and he let out a little gasp and I felt the little hardon swell and contract in my mouth. It pulsed and pulsed in my mouth but nothing came out. No semen, nothing. All I knew was that he was in Heaven all the way through it, shaking and gasping.

"How was that, sweetheart?" I asked him after I let the penis slip from my mouth. "Was that worth giving me your little girlfriend's address?"

He gave me the address and pulled up his pants.

"You want that feeling again, just play with it and think about my tits," I smiled. "But it won't feel the same way as it did in my mouth."

He grinned at me. I had made his day. But I still had to track down Billie.

When I got back to my car, I drank some more and I went for a short drive. I parked the car and I stuffed the bottle in my purse. I walked a block to the address Tommy had given me. It was an old-fashioned-looking house with a front porch with a swing. I knocked on the door, but it was closed and locked. It was obvious no one was home.

I had just sucked off a young boy for information, and I didn't even know if it was right. I took out my bottle and drank some more.

That was the last I remembered...

......

"You know Billie?" the little girl asked me.

"Yes, but don't tell anyone, OK?" I said. "It's a secret."

A woman appeared from the front door of the house. She was quite pretty but you could tell she had been through something. Obviously, this was the mother Billie had spoken of, the alcoholic. Good God, I had to go. I had to get out of there.

"Oh, Sara, she woke up," the woman said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's OK," I said. "I really need to go. I'm so embarrassed. I'm so sorry I passed out on your porch. I was driving and I got lost and I got out. I was... well... drinking."

"You sure you don't want some water?"

I turned to go. I didn't look back. As with everything else, I ran in fear.

(TO BE CONTINUED)