Shelter, Chapter 10: The Heat of the Moment

by Glassbottom

Sunday morning was hot and steamy. I didn't want to move; I had to. Now that I had a job, there were things that had to be done on the weekend that could not be done any other time. On this particular weekend, I had a ton of laundry to do and now that I had a job, there was no waiting until tomorrow.

I took a shower, let my hair dry naturally and put on my over-sized blouse and sweatpants. All my bras were in the wash, so I was going natural under the blouse again.

I took everything down to the car, and I have to say that in spite of the heat, outside there was a nice breeze blowing and it felt good flowing through the hair and dancing over the skin. It was just going to be a hard day lighting cigarettes outside Mrs. Pike's laundromat.

That was OK. I had been cutting back, on the cigarettes and on the drinking. And it appeared that I was resisting temptation on other fronts as well.

I had stood my ground. I had won the battle of wills against a determined opponent.

I arrived at the laundromat at one in the afternoon. The breeze was strong right there, going from left to right looking out from the door of the place.

I hauled my laundry inside. There were a few people in there finishing up. There was a man who seemed to be on his own, one arm covered with tattoos, a stud in one ear, his head shaved close. The other two were a young couple. She was cute with short blonde hair, and he was good-looking in a pretty boy sort of way, if I may be one to judge.

The young couple did not seem to be getting along so well.

"They're your friends," he said.

"What's wrong with them?" she said.

"It's like some secret club whenever you chicks get together... off in a corner giggling. Sometimes I feel like when I say something, you're all laughing at me."

"Oh, that's stupid, David. We've all just been friends a long time. You're too sensitive."

And blah blah blah...

God. You can keep those petty arguments, both sides of them.

I started filling up the washing machines. I had to take a bunch of them I had so many loads.

When I had to walk over to the change machine and get my quarters, I turned and walked in the direction of the door, and I noticed the man with the shaved head and the tattoo on one arm and the stud in his ear was gazing outside.

He was looking at a little girl of ten riding around in the heat in a short yellow dress, her skin tanned deep, her curls blowing gently in the breeze.

The girl had the most remarkably curvaceous legs for her age that the man with the tattoo had ever seen, I would about imagine, because that was the way I had felt about her legs the first time I had seen them.

I saw the way he looked at her, and I thought about what she had once told me about men and the way they looked at her.

Anyway, yes, it was Billie again. She was out there. She had come to stalk me, haunt me, disturb me once again. You couldn't tell me she didn't know I was there. She was riding her bike in a circle around the parking lot as if she were oblivious, but she had seen my car. She knew. That's why she was there.

She was just teasing me pedaling around out there, probably waiting for me to come out and have a cigarette so she could come up with something clever to say.

Or had she run dry?

Well, I wasn't going to give her the chance. Let her come inside. Let her come and get me. What was she going to do? What could she possibly do that she hadn't already done?

I got my quarters and started all my washing machines and I had a seat. The man with the tattoo kept on watching out the front. He must have been taking mental pictures of her for later, as much as he was staring. It was strange. I didn't like it. I saw him in his bedroom later thinking about her, saw him jerking himself off, and it bothered me.

I stood up, I reached for my purse, and I walked toward the door. I went outside, I took out a cigarette and I lit it.

Billie circled on her bike and came within a couple of feet of me.

"You following me again, little girl?" I asked.

She rode away, angled her body into the curve, pedaling casually around until she returned to me.

"It's a free country," she said, and then she rode away from me again, rising up off the seat. Oh, that butt... what a sight...

It was as she was coasting back in my direction that I tossed my smoke and reached out for the handlebars and stopped her . She dropped off the seat and looked at me and I cupped that chin of hers and looked in those amazing eyes.

"Listen to me," I said. "I'm done playing around."

"So am I," she said, and then nice and loud so anyone could hear, "Mom!" She reached out to hug me about the neck. "Can I help you with the laundry?"

"All right," I said. "You want to hang out and pretend to be my daughter and help me with the laundry, that's fine. But when the laundry's done you ride away on your bike and forget about me. It's no good."

"Fine," she said to me, tilting her head with that smug grin on her face. I didn't know if I wanted to smack her or yank her panties down and put her over my knee. I allowed her to park her bike and I tossed my cigarette and I turned to her, allowing myself to take in that dress.

Oh, that fucking dress, it fit her so right, and it was so short, kind of tattered and old, like she had worn it a couple of years. It showed off her incredible fucking legs as far as you could possibly take them.

"The dude with the tattoos has been checking you out," I whispered in her ear before we went inside. "Just a warning."

"What else is new," she said. She took my hand. "Just hold my hand, Mommy. Promise?"

"Sure," I said.

We got inside and the dude gave her one last look as we walked past, holding hands.

"I already started the washers, baby," I said. "When they're done, you can help me switch. I'm glad you're here to help me." I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to my side, sneaking a look back at the tattooed man. He was folding clothes on the for mica table in front of him. He had stopped looking.

I had ruined it for him.

I sat and Billie sat next to me, holding my hand. She took my hand and placed it on her knee, and she left it there, and then she tried to move it further up on her thigh, but I wouldn't let her do it. I got up and moved around, stood across from her, but then I had too glorious of a view of those legs, those magnificent legs...

At least if I sat down next to her, I would not have to look at her.

I sat down and kept my hands to myself. I turned and stared at the floor. I looked away. I did everything but look at or touch Billie.

The man with the tattoo and the earring in his left ear, he folded his dry clothes and left, and the young couple left soon after him. Billie helped me switch the clothes to the dryers and I turned to her.

"You should go now," I said. "We're alone now, but the show's over."

"Why do you hate me?" she asked, her tone suggesting that she was truly hurt.

"I don't hate you."

"Then why do you treat me like you do?"

"I don't owe you anything," I said. I stepped outside and I took out a cigarette and lit it up. I expected her to follow me out there, but she didn't. I stood there in peace, looking east and looking west and thinking about how in the hell I had got myself into this mess, and how I was going to get myself out of it.

When I came back in, she was leaning forward on her elbows on the for mica table where I had put my laundry basket. She had her back to me, or rather, her backside.

She was rocking back and forth from hip to hip to some invisible rhythm, and those butt cheeks took turns shifting up and down under that little dress. She kicked off one flip-flop and stretched his leg taut while the other leg bent at the knee, her foot kicking up in the air, her remaining flip-flop dangling from the tip of her pointed toe.

It tickled me down low, gave me that fluttery feeling, that dizzy feeling...

I took a breath, closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and let the breath out. I tried to pretend for a moment that she wasn't there, that if I opened my eyes she would magically be gone.

Her flip-flop dropped off her toe and hit the floor. I opened my eyes. Yes, she was still there. The best I could do was sit, relax, do my best to pass our remaining time together without incident, without losing control either by lashing out or by grabbing her and having my way with her.

I sat. I sat in the bucket chair straight across from the table on which she was leaning. I stared straight ahead. She turned and leaned forward into my field of vision. She moved her entire body around the table so that she once again had her back to me.

With her hands on her hips, she took her sweet time lifting the dress, once again incorporating her own little dance, showing me her remarkable rear end in a pair of tight-fitting white cotton little girl briefs. Reaching down with one hand, she cupped one of her own buttocks, squeezing it, showing it to me, then groping herself farther on down the back of her thigh.

I closed my eyes again. I wanted to pray. Yes, I wanted to pray very much, but I knew God was not there for me. My temptation was for me and for me alone to deal with. I took a deep breath and I let it out, and once again I opened my eyes.

A couple of chairs down, I spotted a folded-up newspaper. Someone must have left it behind and Mrs. Pike hadn't been around to bitch and gripe and throw it away. I reached over and snatched it. I immediately opened it, shook it, and lifted it to cover my field of vision.

I tried to find something of interest, something more interesting than the scenery I was trying to block out.

LOCAL MAN CHARGED IN BURGLARIES...

CITIZENS' BOARD COMPLAINS ABOUT ABANDONED FACTORIES...

METEOROLOGISTS PREDICT SEVERE WEATHER TO FOLLOW HEAT...

STATE SENATOR INDICTED FOR TAKING BRIBES...

Same old shit, different day. And the weather guys, they didn't know anything.

I started reading about the burglar. Better than nothing. Better than nothing as I held my paper all spread out.

And then something hit my paper from the other side, some sort of projectile, but it was not a hard projectile. It was something soft, and after it made contact, it fell upon my knees. I lifted my paper just a couple of inches to see what was in my lap.

It was a half balled-up pair of white cotton panties.

My hands began to shake. I put my head down. I closed the newspaper and I tossed it aside. I took the white panties and spread them out on my lap, looked at them, shook my head, buried my face in my lap, breathing in her scent as I deliberated.

Slowly I looked up.

One leg was dangling, the toes pointed, and I focused on that for a moment before moving on.

I sucked in a quick breath it tried to escape...

Billie was seated at the very edge of the table, her other leg dangling the same as the first, one hand pulling her dress up about her waist, exposing to me the cleft of her bald pussy. It was so perfect, the skin so smooth and hairless all around, and at the top of breach protruded the fleshy hood.

I could only imagine the underdeveloped pink lips inside, and the little clitoris hiding underneath that fleshy hood.

I stared and I tried very hard to breathe as I tried very hard to decide what to do next. The only thing I could think of was mediocre at best.

"You... you shouldn't be up there," I said. "Missus Pike will – "

"I don't care about her right now," she said, her eyes dropping to the area between her thighs as with her free hand she spread the smooth flesh of her mound, revealing some of the pink inside. "You like that, Georgia?" she whispered. "You want me, don't you?"

I moved the panties to the chair next to me, and as I looked into her eyes, then down into the coral flower of her vulva, then back up into her eyes, I made my final plea.

"I'm asking you one last time, Billie, " I said, trying to be calm, but obviously on my last nerve, "get down from there and stop all this."

In a soft voice, and I will never forget her tone, so hot and so cold at the same time, she said two simple words:

"Make – me."

Yeah... just like that she said it. She couldn't have made it any plainer.

I could see it in her face and in her eyes and in the the way her mouth formed the words. She wasn't going to let me pick her up like a small child, set her down on the floor, smooth out her dress, and tell her she had been a naughty little girl.

In broad daylight, behind a glass storefront, in an laundromat where, despite the location, anyone could have walked in at any second, she was daring me to do much more than that.

And the time had come to decide whether or not I had it in me, once and for all.

I stood up. I could feel it in my legs. I could feel it in my arms.

I could feel it in my back. There was resistance. But then there were my eyes and they knew what they wanted and they did not want to resist, not any longer. They urged me forward. And with slow steps, I moved up to the table, standing just about eye to eye with her.

I could feel my own excitement tingling within. and the wetness soaking through my panties as I stood there.

Those blue-green eyes looked up into mine. I heard her breathing. Her face had turned red, a beautiful flush. I think she was just a little nervous, maybe a lot like I was.

"You know what, Billie?" I whispered. "What?" she smiled back.

"Ever since I first saw you, I've wanted you, little girl... to touch you, to taste you. I've never seen anything like you."

"Yeah, well... " she tilted her head down.

"No, I mean it, " I said, "and I been fighting with myself since that first time I touched you, getting' all crazy, thinking about you all the time."

She grinned at me. She must have liked that. I couldn't hold back anymore.

It was the heat of the moment, that heat that had been so unbearable for so long. Right now, in this moment, nothing between us but my inhibitions and the laws of the state, I was making my move.

I reached out and seized her by her naked hips under the dress and pulled her hard against me so that she felt it in her most sensitive place, now exposed and vulnerable to me and...

"Ungh... " she let out in a shivering gasp, and I felt her legs hook around me.

"Oh God, Billie," I said between clenched teeth as I pressed my lips to her ear and worked my hands down to her pert round buttocks, practically lifting her off the table. She put her arms around my neck, probably just in case I was thinking of actually picking her up.

That was when I noticed the cameras.

There were three of them. Of course, who knew, knowing the Pikes, if the damn things actually worked? But what if they did? It was bad enough taking a chance laying a little girl out on a for mica table and licking her pussy with the possibility of someone showing up. It was another to be caught on tape, even bad security footage going down on a ten year old girl.

But there was no stopping. No. And the thrill of being there, oh my God, the thrill of being with her in a public place, I hated to admit how arousing it was. All of it. From her lifting her dress and showing me her pussy to me standing up and pulling her against me...

Which she seemed to like. And it gave me an idea.

I began to rub against her, grind my belly against her exposed pussy almost like I was fucking her. I could feel the sweat dripping from my brow and I pulled back to see her face flush and her eyes roll back in her head.

"Oh, Georgia... "

I knew then I could never hurt this girl, that I didn't want to abuse or prey on her at all. It was not like that, not like that at all, and I finally knew it. I was after something else. I wanted to see her enjoy, not suffer. But I knew something still scared me, something that would have to wait.

I slowed my undulating down to almost nothing. I stroked her hair with one hand and she looked at me like I had disappeared to the other side of the room, and maybe I had in my thoughts, for suddenly I saw her in a whole new light...

"What's wrong, Georgia?" she whispered. "Are you all right?"

Pressing my mouth to hers, I gave her a long, lingering kiss as I began to grind again, but my grinding was more deliberate, less jerky, as I held her carefully by the hips.

"Mmmm... " I heard her groan underneath and through the kiss, and I could feel it all the way down my spine. I was tingling so bad, and my clit needed stimulation right then and there, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Everything I was feeling at the moment, I was feeling through Billie... except for the sudden shooting pain in my back...

I knew I just had to sit down.

And when I lifted her up and backed into a chair with this beautiful little girl straddling my lower belly, suddenly the pain subsided from my back and Billie was the one grinding and rubbing against me. As her eyes stared into mine, almost transfixed, she lowered her arms from about my neck and began searching about for my breasts with her hands.

I lifted my blouse, baring my belly to her exposed genitals, and it was then I could truly feel her wetness. I took her small hands underneath my blouse and led them up to my tits, and I just let them explore on their own.

She enjoyed touching them, smiled as she touched them, especially when she pinched my nipples and watched my reaction. Oh, you can bet I reacted to Billie Dean... yes, that was her name... to Billie Dean touching and playing with my tits as she ground her pussy against me.

But it was her reaction I wanted to witness, her reaction to everything. I was right there where I could see it, right there where I could feel it.

Oh those eyes. At their most expressionless, their depth was as unimaginable as that of the ocean whose color they took from with such reverence. There was always something there waiting below the surface, and who knew what it might be? Who knew what words might next fall from her lips?

This was not one of those times. In the quiet, as I heard her breath quiver, rise and fall, I looked into her eyes and saw everything. It was one of those times when words were not going to do Billie any good. The eyes spoke of every spark of every nerve ending as she rubbed herself against me, by now her little clit well engorged I was quite sure.

Her eyes blinked, looked away as if spacing, then stared at me agin, then rolled back and closed as her brow deeply furrowed...

Then she would slow, as if it were too much, as if timid of the sensations... but always she would return...

And that mouth. Was there anything quite so alluring as watching that mouth, those full lips fluttering with each hard grind of her body, her breaths growing more and more shallow as she became shaky in her movements.

Sweat soaked her curls and poured off her brow and dripped onto me. Her entire body was hot, hot like a fever...

I reached out and steadied her, steadied her as she reached up and tried to hang onto my shoulders and maintain her rhythm.

"Oh... oh... oh... " she began to whimper repeatedly with each and every movement against me, and I grasped her hips even tighter, sensing it, knowing it, not wishing to hurry it but even still...

A car passed outside. Not now. Please don't have laundry...

But I heard no car doors. In a moment I forgot all about that. I forgot all about everything. Everything but Billie looking me in the eyes and grinding against me very fast.

And then, all of a sudden, time, as we know it, seemed to stop, and I was looking into her frozen expression, her mouth fallen open, her eyes wide open and her brows arched...

It began with her lower body twitching against me almost simuntaneous with the sweet moan that emitted from her lips... She cried out and gasped and whimpered and panted and kept grinding and twitching and I could feel the moisture of her little pussy on my lower belly as I tingled mercilessly below... oh God, I was tingling...

My little Billie was having an orgasm grinding against me in the middle of a fucking laundromat, and her solid young body was twitching all over with no daylight between hers and mine...

Like I said, I could not have reached myself had I wanted...

But still... I came...

Looking into her lost, orgasmic, greenish-blue gaze, myself completely lost in the that gaze and that moment and overcome by it, I was spontaneously seized by the most powerful orgasm of my life. It started in my clitoris but I felt it all through me and all over me.

It just happened, like the cork popping out of a bottle by itself. I shuddered through it, so focused on Billie that I did not even blink. I grabbed Billie, staring into her eyes, watching her as her orgasm seemed to be subsiding but her firm thighs were still twitching, her little vulva was dripping wet and very hot against my belly.

Finally we both settled into a place where we were no longer trembling.

"How did that feel?" I asked her. "Pretty amazing, huh?"

"Oh... " she was still catching her breath. "Yeah..."

"Was that your first orgasm, Sweetheart?"

"My first... what?"

"I guess it was," I said, caressing her face.

She smiled. Her eyes were lit up like the sun was shining down on the ocean waters. She moved, climbed up off of me, staggering a bit.

"Whoa, girl, " I laughed, reaching out to catch her. "Take it easy. Your legs don't want to work right just yet.

"I'm so hot," Billie said.

Yes, she was. Right again.

Her little yellow dress was soaked with sweat, plastered to her, and her curls were mussed, dripping with perspiration. God, she looked sexy.

Billie walked to the drink machine and I followed and bought us each something, but she ended up drinking both her lemonade and most of my water, tipping them back and guzzling them down.

That was sexy too.

I checked all of my neglected dryers and I fed them all with quarters and I stepped out to share a cigarette with Billie.

"Well... ?" I asked her.

"Well, what?" she asked me back.

"How does it feel to finally get me?"

"I ain't sure," she said. She looked thoughtful, submerged into the depths of her eyes, but then did return to smile. "I did enjoy... you know... the... org... "

"Orgasm?"

She smiled and nodded, almost blushed.

And then she quickly handed the cigarette back to me.

"I'll see you later, Mom," she said. "You have a good day."

From behind me approached a heavy black woman with two bags of laundry.

"Wait a minute, Billie," I said, reaching for her, pulling her close. "Don't run away," I said. "You're mine now. I don't want you to just run off."

At these words a look came into Billie's eyes like I had kicked her. She pulled away and climbed on her bike and before pedaling away she told me something I wouldn't soon forget.

"I don't belong to nobody."

I stepped back inside the laundromat, the scene of the crime, the place of the miracle, and the whole thing played over again in my mind like a loop. I had trouble thinking about anything else. I stared at one of the dryers, stopped for five minutes, before finally taking the clothes out and folding them.

The heavy black woman turned to me.

"'Scuse me, ma'am," she said. "Do these belong to you?"

She held up a pair of little girl's white cotton briefs.

Oh my God...

"Yes," I said. "I was folding and my daughter disturbed me. Thank you."

I took the panties from her and when she wasn't looking I put them in my purse for later.

(TO BE CONTINUED)