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“You okay, mister?” The girl regarded me as I lay in the empty parking lot.

I was not okay. I had slipped on black ice, twisting my ankle and landing hard on my ass. It was embarrassing—I slipped because I turned to check out the girl’s ass when she walked by.

The glare from the high light posts was as cold as the February wind and the ice I lay on.

On my hands and knees, I crawled over to clear pavement and stood. The girl grabbed my arm to help.

“Oww... oh dammit!” It hurt when I put weight on my ankle, and my skinny ass would be bruised from the fall.

The girl put my arm over her shoulder. “C’mon... walk it off, mister. It’s probably okay.”

She helped me hobble several steps, and the pain began fading. I took a few steps on my own. It hurt, but it didn’t seem serious.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem, mister. Spare some change?” She looked at me blankly, holding out a mitten-covered palm.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had seen her the past two mornings at the fast-food place. Both times, she sat alone, huddled around a lone cup of coffee.

She was pretty in an unassuming, girl-next-door way, her face framed by shoulder-length hair spilling from under a winter hat. She looked to be in her early twenties... slightly younger than me. From her clothes and closed-in manner, I suspected she lived on the street.

Able to walk again, I dusted salt and snow off my dress coat and fished around in my pockets. I gave her twenty dollars.

“Wow,” she said without expression, “is that for helping you, or because you were checking out my ass?”

I’ve never understood the sixth sense woman have for guys checking them out. I was certain she hadn’t turned around until I yelled when I fell. How could she have known?

“Er, a little of both?” I said as I straightened my tie and flashed a sheepish smile. “Thanks again.”

I started back to my hotel, limping lightly.

“Hey mister,” the girl called from behind me.

I turned. She picked something up from the pavement. My wallet.

She walked over and handed it to me, lips pursed as she shook her head in admonishment. As she walked away, I checked the wallet. Nothing was missing.

~~~~

She was at the fast-food place again the next morning. Same table, and again with just coffee. I wrestled with my shyness for several minutes then picked up my tray and walked over to her.

“Hi,” I said, “breakfast is on me, if you want it.”

She looked up and studied me for a moment.

“Sure, thanks,” she said, holding out her hand.

“No, I’ll buy it for you.”

“Money’s better.”

I said, “I’d really rather see you eat. I gave you twenty dollars last night. I would have thought you’d have enough left over for more than coffee.”

She frowned, but agreed. I set my tray on her table, and we walked to the counter to order.

“What can I have?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

She looked at me askance, then took me at my word. The mound of food she carried back to the table overflowed the tray.

I sat across from her, wondering how she could eat it all. Of course, she didn’t: most she stuffed into her jacket pockets and the backpack at her feet.

“Is it okay if I ask you something?” I said.

Around a mouthful of sausage, egg and cheese, she said, “No, I didn’t pick your pocket. Your wallet was there on the ground like I found it. I might beg and borrow, but I try not to steal.”

She was clearly more interested in eating than talking, so I stayed quiet. Just as I summoned more courage to make conversation, she shoved the rest of her food in her mouth and stood.

“Thanks,” she said with a forced half-smile. She hoisted her backpack and left.

~~~~

At lunchtime, I ran across the street from my client’s building to a little sandwich shop. The girl was there, again only with coffee.

When she noticed me, I said, “Hi. Just coffee again? Lunch is on me if you want it.”

She nodded, and she ordered a huge meatball sub.

“Thanks again, mister,” she said, and then hurried out into the cold.

~~~~

I was skinny so always dressed warm, but even with all my layers, the wind seemed to go right to the bone. The dry air threatened to snow—one last dumping of the season—but so far only light dustings had fallen in the area.

I was walking back to the hotel after a long day with my client. If they hadn’t had an emergency, I would have been three hours away enduring another awkward visit with my father. Like me, he was all alone, so as the only child I had no choice but to see him when I was nearby.

Though it was only 5:30 at night, it was dark and Main Street was deserted. It was one of those towns that emptied into the suburbs at night. As I walked, I noticed city hall had tried to improve the downtown: brick lined the area between the sidewalk and the street, there were antique-looking cast-iron lamp poles and benches, and oval plaques bolted to anything slightly historic explaining their faint significance. The same trite attempt to rejuvenate a decaying downtown was common in many of the places I traveled for business.

Wire-frame decorations were still strapped to each lamp pole: a candle, a candy cane, a bell, each shape outlined in twinkling lights and repeated along the street.

It late enough in the winter to get above freezing some days, and the snowbanks had shrunk to form those dark flecks of filth and expose some of dog shit buried since November.

The empty street and bleak surroundings mirrored my mood.

The wind picked up, so I walked faster. Despite the cold, walking felt good. Usually when I did contracts, it was all taxis or rental cars. I was glad when I found a hotel close enough I could walk to my client for a change. May it would put some muscle on my thin legs.

I crossed paths with the girl again as I hurried across the same parking lot. She shifted her backpack on her shoulder and then pulled a mittened hand from the pocket of her waist-length jacket.

“Spare any change Mister?”

I stopped. “Seriously?”

She shrugged, expressionless. “I gotta ask.” She didn’t meet my eyes.

I studied her. Her short jacket looked like it barely held back the cold, but she had fleece hoodie underneath. The hood was pulled up over her knit cap, protecting her pleasant face as the wind whipping us.

“I’d rather see you eat,” I said.

“I ate lots today.” She raised her eyes briefly. “Uh, thanks.”

I wanted to help her, but I read giving money wasn’t supposed to help these people.

I said, “listen, I’m heading to dinner right now. Dinner’s on me, if you want it.”

“Why do you keep saying that? It sounds weird. Can’t you just give me money?”

I hesitated. “Well, they say it’s not good to give a street person money. They might use it for booze or drugs.”

She scrunched her face. “You know what, mister? I’m a person, not a ‘street person’. And I don’t do drugs and I don’t drink.”

I held up a hand. “No, of course. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry. I’m not used to talking to a str... I mean, a... person.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, mister. I’m not gonna knife ya or anything.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not very good at conversation. Especially with girls.”

“Woman,” she said. “Not girl. Haven’t you heard of women’s rights? Though I guess that’s a step up from ‘street person’. Are you shy or something, mister?”

Fumbling, I said, “Er, sometimes. Look, I was going to the chicken place. Right over there. I’ll buy. You don’t have to sit with me if you won’t want to.”

She looked. After a long pause she said, “We always used to go to those places when I was little. They used have a quarter chicken something. It was great.”

“They still have it,” I said. “It’s only reason I ever go there.”

~~~~

“I’m Martin, by the way,” I said as I sat across from her.

“Kayla,” she said, looking around the restaurant. She left her jacket on, only unzipping it enough to expose the hoodie pushed out by good-sized breasts. At least she had lowered the hood and removed her cap. For the first time I noticed she had a spray of freckles. I always liked freckles.

“Wow... these places are still the same,” she said. “I remember that same chicken wallpaper from when I was a kid.”

When the waiter set her food before her, Kayla’s face lit up.

“This hasn’t changed either,” she said.

She shoveled her food in as fast as she could.

“Whoa,” I chuckled, “take your time.”

She looked at me warily, then sat back and slowed down.

I said, “Winter is the only time I eat here. It’s not my favorite place.”

“So why come?”

“Tradition, I guess. My parents always took us here. It reminds me of when I was little.”

“Me too. We always used to go. Not just winter. Any time. My dad loved it.”

“Comfort food,” I said.

She nodded. “Yeah. That’s right. Comfort food.”

We ate in silence while I tried to think of other things to say. I felt awkward, and I didn’t want her to feel the same way. The restaurant was warm so took off my suit jacket and tie, self-conscious as always about how my clothes hung off me.

She pointed at me with her fork while she chewed. “Huh. You’re skinny.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I never have to worry about getting fat.”

“Lucky,” she said, going back to her food. “How come?”

“Oh, I had a problem when I was little. My heart. I’m okay now, but it affected my development.”

“Sorry about that. Still, kind of lucky though... most people can’t stop getting fat.”

I let her eat more and then said, “So, uh, do you mind if I ask... what’s your story? You don’t have to tell me. I’m just kind of curious.”

She snorted. “My story? I don’t have a story. Do you have a story?”

“Sure. I’m here on business. Helping a client clean up a big mess.”

“Yeah? You don’t look like a janitor.”

“It’s a business mess. With financial software I specialize in. The client didn’t implement it right, and they’ve called me in to fix it and clean up the incorrect financial postings.”

“Are you rich? You dress rich.”

“I guess I’m doing okay. I got lucky and found a niche that lets me charge a lot. And I figure if clients are going to pay a lot, I should at least dress professionally.”

“Yeah... rich. But you still won’t give me money?”

“What would you do with it?” I asked.

“Oh, you know. Opioids, crack, weed, booze. The rest I’d waste on buying food.”

I frowned. “That wasn’t very nice. I’m not trying to offend. I really don’t know how a stree... a woman... can survive on the street.”

She must have also gotten warm, because she peeled off her jacket and hoodie, revealing a thin sweater molded to her breasts. She was so pretty, even with the tiredness and slight desperation hovering in her eyes.

She said, “You do what you need to do. Anyway, it hasn’t been long. Six months.”

“Really? Only six months?”

“Think I was born living on the streets? Until August, I was with my step-mom on the East coast. Just her and me since dad died.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“Her new boyfriend moved in and decided I should be a fringe benefit. I told him to go fuck himself, but he kept at it. When he started slapping me around and my step-mom pretended nothing was happening, I left.”

“So why come here? Friends? Other family?”

“No, I don’t know anyone here. I was on my way out West, then things happened and I got stuck in this shitty town. I’m out of here soon as I get enough for the bus to the west coast.”

“I see. So, what’s out there?”

“My older brothers.”

“Can’t they send you money for a ticket? How much could it be?”

“Two hundred fifty.”

“That’s all? That’s nothing,” I said.

She scowled. “Nothing for you, maybe. Frigging impossible for me. I saved up one fifty once. Took two months. And some asshole stole it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can only imagine how hard it must be. So why can’t your brothers help?”

“They’re not rich, and they won’t anyway. They’re pissed I left my step-mother. They say we all owe her for raising us.”

“They’re so angry they’ll let you live on the street?”

Kayla looked at the table. “I haven’t told them. Haven’t told anyone. It’s too humiliating. They think I’m staying with friends.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She brightened up. “But when they see me, one or the other will put me up for a while. Especially if I lay on the drama. My family is a little screwed up.”

I said, “I think everyone’s family is a little screwed up.” I told her about my father and the difficulties he started having when my mother died.

“So, you hate him but still visit?” she asked.

“I don’t hate him. He’s just a bit of an asshole, especially this time of year. Cabin fever, I think. Doesn’t go out. Sits and broods about everything he doesn’t have anymore... my mother, a fancy house, the job he retired from. I don’t know. And he was always strict. We were never close.”

Kayla studied me again, then wiped chicken grease from her mouth and hands and reached down into her backpack. She pulled out a folder and opened it: drawings. Charcoals, mostly, but others were in colored pencil, and a few watercolors, all skillfully done: figures, landscapes, churches, a few streetscapes of the downtown.

“Like them?” she said.

“These are yours? Yeah, they’re good.”

“If you won’t just give me money, would you buy some?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you money, you know.” I looked closer at her work. “Hey... these really are good. You’ve studied. You’ve had training.”

She looked at me closely. “How would you know?”

“I draw a little too.” I retrieved my spiral sketchpad from my laptop bag and handed it to her. “Nothing fancy... just ink and pencil. I do charcoals sometimes too, but always make a mess. None of it is anywhere near your level. I can tell a trained hand when I see it, though.”

“Huh,” she said, flipping through the pages. “These are okay.”

She paused at a seated nude I had attempted and shook her head.

“Nice form and shading, but the proportions are off. Her hands are too big. And boobs don’t really go like that.”

I looked. She was right.

“Anyway,” she said, “you’re right. I did a year of graphic arts before I left home. When I get settled with my brothers, I’ll finish the program if I can. The instructors said I had talent.”

I leafed through her drawings. “You do,” I said, and pointed out specifics I liked in a charcoal study she did of a horse. “You sell these?”

“Try to. Nobody wants to pay much, though. And supplies are hard to get. And keep.”

Kayla leaned across to point out other elements in her work she was proud of, and we talked about techniques and media. She knew much more than I did, but I only fooled around as a hobby. Sketching helped me relax and zone out. It was a welcome change from working with computers and software.

Kayla eagerly described her work. I listened, and admired her face now she was close.

“You could sell these online, you know.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve bought originals from some of the indie marketplaces. You could advertise on them. They probably pay better than selling on the street, and you’d reach more people.”

We discussed that idea for a while when Kayla gasped.

“Oh, shit! What time is it?”

I checked. “7:15.”

“Dammit.” She sat back and huddled in on herself, eyes searching in thought.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Never mind. It’s... the stupid shelter stops taking people at seven.”

“That’s where you stay?”

“Most of the time. But I... I have another place.”

I wasn’t convinced. “A place inside? Or on the street somewhere?”

She looked away, frowning.

“It’s really cold out tonight,” I said. “Is there another place you can go? Another shelter?” Friends?”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I can stay in the coffee shop for a few hours, then the bus station doesn’t kick you out for maybe four hours, then...”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? Were you on your way to the shelter when I offered you dinner?”

“I thought I could eat quick. Then I forgot the time.”

I considered. “Then I can pay for a room for you. My hotel is on the next street.”

She shook her head. “No... they won’t let you. They won’t take someone like me. None of the hotels will.”

I considered options. “Then stay with me.”

“Wha... what?”

“Yes, that’s the best solution. Stay in my room. You’ll be warm and safe. We can look at some of those online marketplaces. Then in the morning, I can buy you that bus ticket.”

It was the obvious answer to the problem. My room had two beds. She would be comfortable. But Kayla was looking me up and down, like a wrestler sizing up an opponent.

“It’s okay,” I said. “The hotel won’t even know. My room is huge and has good Internet. It’s perfect.”

She looked away, thinking, then fixed her mouth and took a breath.

“I... shit. Okay,” she sighed, “let’s go.”

She should have been happy. Why wasn’t she happy? I could never understand women.

~~~~

I let her into my room, and she looked around cautiously. It was a standard hotel room: two double beds, TV, a small desk and some chairs by the window. The bathroom was a little larger than most, but nothing extravagant.

I put our coats in the hall closet and then started setting up my laptop on the desk.

Kayla sat on the bed closest to the door, hugging her backpack to her chest.

I said, “Now, let’s see what we can do with you...” I started searching the Internet to learn how the online marketplaces worked. It was all new to me.

Kayla asked, “It is okay if I take a shower first?”

“Huh?” I said. “Oh, sure. Of course. There’s a guest bathrobe in the closet, and plenty of towels. Make yourself at home.”

I heard the bathroom door close and the shower start. She was in there a long time.

I was studying sites on the Internet and taking notes when the bathroom door opened, steam billowing in the bathroom’s glare.

Kayla stepped into the hall, naked. She walked toward me.

I gasped, both from shock and from the sight of her lovely body. She was a little thin, a little under-nourished, but shapely. She had womanly hips and delightful full breasts capped with modest nipples. Her skin gleamed.

She walked closer, combing fingers through her damp hair, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

I was speechless, captivated. Her breasts were large, but they barely moved at all in their firmness. Between her legs, thin unkempt hair topped the gap between her thighs.

She stood in front of me. With me sitting, her breasts were right at eye level. They were perfect. Heat radiated from her body, still warm from the shower. She smelled of scented soap.

Kayla kneeled and started undoing my pants. I leaned back, wide-eyed, not believing what was happening.

“No,” I tried to shout, but all that came out was a strangled hiss.

She fished out my half-hard dick and put it in her mouth without hesitation.

“Stop... please.” My words were just a whisper.

She started bobbing her head.

“STOP!” I shouted. I stood, knocking over the chair and sending her spilling onto her bum.

She looked scared. I tried to do up my pants.

“Was... wasn’t that okay?” she said. “You didn’t tell me how you want to do it. Do you want to just go right to the fucking?”

“No! You don’t need to do anything like that. That’s not why you’re here.”

“I want to,” she said, but her face and her tone screamed the opposite.

I scooted around her to get the hotel robe. I turned away while she stood and slipped it on. Wrapped in the big white robe, she stood hugging herself, eyes on the floor.

“You thought I brought you here for sex?”

“Of course. What else?”

“What else? What I said! So you could be warm. Safe. So we could look at ways to sell your artwork. So I could help you a little!”

Kayla shrank away as if she expected to be hit.

I was angry. At myself for not making myself clear, at her for not understanding, furious at the whole horrible situation.

“Is this what you do? Have sex for money? Or favors?”

Kayla balled her fists. “No! Never. This... this is the first time.”

“So then why? Why now? With me?”

A pause. “I need a place to stay. You said you’d buy me a bus ticket. I figured it wouldn’t be so bad. You’re... kinda nice. And I owe you.”

Oh, God. It was awful.

I said, “Kayla, you don’t owe me anything. And certainly not sex. No one ever owes anyone that.”

Silence.

I took a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t explain properly at the restaurant. I’m bad at that. I thought I was clear. I never thought for a moment that you thought... you know. I’ve just never dealt with...”

She flicked damp eyes up at me. “Street people?”

“Desperation. Someone who’s trapped. Having no money. I don’t know. Fuck!”

She tensed and shied away again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” I said. “I’m just... mad at myself.”

Kayla hurried past me, grabbing her backpack and ran into the bathroom. When she emerged, she was dressed in fresh clothes. She pulled her coat from the closet and reached for the door.

“Wait! Don’t leave. Kayla... Please!”

She paused and looked at me.

I said, “Please... you don’t have to leave. It was a misunderstanding. It’s okay.” I gestured to my laptop. “Please... at least let me show you what I found. Places you can sell your work.”

I sat back down at the desk. Kayla crept over to look over my shoulder as I paged through some works for sale.

“They can charge this much?” she said quietly. “And wow... a lot of this stuff is complete crap.”

We looked at several sites. She said could access the Internet at a library, but when we looked at the terms of service for the sites, how artists got their work to customers and how they got paid, it occurred to me then the real problem was logistics.

She needed to post photos of her work, find a way to mount them, ship them, plus a credit card and commercial bank account. These were tremendous obstacles for someone who didn’t have an address. I began to understand why the poor tended to stay poor, no matter their abilities or how hard they worked.

“It’s not going to work until I have a place to stay and some money to get started,” she said. “You’re right though... I can make a lot more.”

“And your work is much better than most of that stuff,” I said.

I got up so she could sit and look through more of the offerings herself. Eventually, she set down her coat and backpack as she studied how the sites worked and what others had for sale. Soon she was engrossed and forgot about leaving.

It had been a long, difficult day at the client’s site and after the drama with Kayla, I just needed to veg out. I propped myself up on my bed to watch TV until she was finished.

The drone of the TV and the warmth of the room must have lulled me to sleep. I woke with daylight peeking through a crack in the curtains. I had fallen asleep in my clothes and slept the entire night. I never did that.

The other bed had been slept in, but Kayla was gone. Looking around the room, I discovered my laptop, watch, and phone were gone too, along with and the cash and credit cards from my wallet.

Shit.

Without my laptop, I couldn’t do my work, and replacing my phone and credit cards would take forever. I didn’t want to call the police, but how else could I find her? Could I find her downtown, somehow? I thought through the options. Perhaps I could tell the police some story about being worried about her and needing to find her. Or something. I had no experience with such a situation. I had no good ideas.

I had just picked up the room telephone when there was a sound at the door. I opened it and found my laptop and a plastic bag with everything else at my feet. Kayla was hurrying down the hallway towards the fire exit.

“Hey, wait!” I shouted and ran after her.

When she turned, it looked like she had been crying. Then I saw the knife in her shaking hand.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” she wailed.

“Whoa,” I said, stepping back with palms up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you okay? What happened? Why did you leave?”

“You got your stuff back. Now leave me alone!” She lowered the knife. “Wait. Did... did you call the cops?”

“No. I didn’t want to do that. And now that you’ve brought everything back, I don’t have to. Thank you so much, Kayla. That really saves me.”

She blinked away a tear and sniffed. “You’re not supposed to thank someone who just robbed you, you know.”

“Sorry,” I said, “it’s my first time.”

Kayla gaped at me like I was deranged.

“Anyway,” I said, “what happened to ‘beg, borrow but not steal?’”

“I said I TRY not to steal. And I don’t. Mostly. But I didn’t think you’d buy me a bus ticket after getting so mad. Your stuff was just laying there when I woke up. I figured you wouldn’t miss it. I figured I’d be long gone before you woke up.”

“I see. So... what changed your mind?”

She looked down and shrugged. “I dunno. When I got to the lobby, I felt shitty. Back when I got stuck here... when everything went to hell, I promised myself: no stealing. No booze. No selling myself. You were nothing but nice to me. You trusted me. And I fucking betrayed you.”

She started to tear up.

My phone began ringing from the bag by my door. I looked from it back to Kayla. I held up a finger. “I have to get that... just... please, don’t leave. Can you come back and talk?” I ran to get my phone.

While I talked, Kayla cautiously crept up back up the hall. I gestured for her to come into the room while I picked everything up and went inside, holding the door for her as I tried to make sense of what my client was saying on the phone.

“...closed? But it’s my last day here. There’s a lot left to do. What? No, I haven’t.” I walked to the window and opened the curtains.

It was blinding. The last snowstorm of the year had arrived. It must have been coming down all night—everything was blanketed deep. The streets were empty except for scattered mounds of buried cars. I saw no plows.

My client explained they were closed for the day and so was nearly everything else in town. I would have to stay one more day.

Kayla was standing in the doorway. I motioned to her to look through the window. Warily, she stepped inside and grumbled when she saw the snow.

I hung up and told her I wasn’t going anywhere that day.

“And you’re really not gonna call the cops?”

“I don’t need that,” I said. “You certainly don’t need that. It’s my fault, anyway.”

“Yeah... for trusting me.”

“No, no. I wasn’t clear. I yelled at you. And it probably didn’t help I fell asleep on you. I didn’t even make sure you had everything you needed. It must have felt like I didn’t care, or like I was still mad. Especially after our, uh, misunderstanding.”

Kayla looked down. “I’m sorry I did that last night.” She started blinking. “I’m sorry I took your stuff. I said I’d never to those things, no matter what.” She started to sob.

Tentatively, I reached out to hold her. Kayla pressed herself against me as she cried.

“Everything is so fucking hard. All the time. I can’t get a job. There’s nowhere to go. I don’t know anyone. People treat me like garbage or pretend I’m not there. You’re the first person to really be nice to me and I turn into a... a thief and whore!”

I held her. “You did what you thought you needed to do. I’d do the same thing in your situation. Actually, no... I’d be dead behind a dumpster after the first day. I couldn’t be anywhere near as resourceful as you, Kayla. Look... it’ll be okay. We’ll get you on the bus. Get you to your brothers.”

She looked up at me and sniffled. “Are you serious? You’d still do that?”

“Of course. I said I would.”

She buried her face. “I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve to live on the street. You don’t deserve to be trapped in this town. No one does. So let’s get you on the bus. We can go to the bus station right now. Or would you rather fly? I could get you a plane ticket just from my frequent-flier points alone.”

She looked up at me. “Are you kidding? That’s too much. Bus is fine. Better... it’ll get me right to their door. Besides, I’ve never been on a plane. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“All right. If that’s what you want, Kayla. Let’s go.” I paused. “Actually, I’m hungry. Are you hungry? You know...”

Kayla sniffled then said, “Oh, don’t say it. You’re gonna say it, aren’t you?”

I grinned. “Breakfast is on me, if you want it.”

~~~~

We ate in the little hotel restaurant. I told her that her things would be safe in the room, but she wore her coat and brought her backpack anyway.

Kayla ate in silence, looking glum.

“Food okay?” I prompted.

She nodded. “I still feel shitty. And you’re still being nice to me. Makes me feel even worse.” She toyed with a sausage.

“But you brought everything back,” I said. “Except, I think there’s one other thing you stole.”

“No. You have everything. I made sure.”

“That knife you had... it’s a steak knife from the restaurant last night, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve heard bad things about when a guy takes you back to his hotel. I took it just in case.”

“I’m flattered I look so dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m amazed, though.” I looked around at the other diners and said in a hushed tone, “You really would have had sex with me?”

She looked at me carefully. “Well, I figured maybe I could just blow you and that would be enough. But if you wanted more, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Really?”

“Is that so amazing? You’re a nice guy. And I haven’t been with anyone since I before left home. It wouldn’t have been like I got nothing out of it.”

I tried to process that. “It’s still wrong, Kayla.”

“Yeah. But you do what you have to, you know? I’ve never seen anyone so mad about getting a blow job, though. The look on your face...” She smiled, shaking her head.

“Because I knew you didn’t want to. And I was surprised. I’ve never had a...”

Kayla looked doubtful. “You’ve never had a blow job?”

“Well, no.”

“You’re kidding. Next you’ll tell me you’ve never had sex.”

“Of course I have. A couple times.”

Kayla looked at me in disbelief. “No way. You’re like, 24 and only had sex twice?”

I could tell I was blushing. “I’m 27. I know... I look younger. Because I was sick. And I’ve done it three times. Back in university.”

“I don’t get it,” said Kayla. “You’re not so bad looking. You’re kind. You’re rich.”

I grimaced. “Come one... I’m skinny and weird looking. And like I said, I’m not good with... women. I’m fine in a professional setting. You know... with clients? But in personal situations I’m a wreck with girls. I get nervous. And I keep getting caught stealing glances at their boobs or their ass. I know... it’s a terrible habit. I feel like a pig every time. I keep trying not to.”

“But you found someone once, right?”

“Uh, sort of. I had a friend in university who also had never... you know. She was just as ugly and shy as me. So we tried it... just to get it out of the way and see what the fuss was about. I guess we didn’t know what we were doing though. It was awkward. Not fun at all.”

“So no one since then?”

“It’s not like I have much choice, Kayla. I’m not attractive. I just get so awkward with women. And I can tell when someone is being nice just because I make a little money.”

She smiled. “You were home schooled, right?”

“Hah. No, but it was something similar. I was in hospitals a lot growing up. Or in bed at home. My parents were scared to let me play with other kids. Afraid I’d catch something, or exert myself too much.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Yeah. They fixed it. I’m fine. I was just left a little... underdeveloped. Physically. Socially. I’m the stereotypical pencil-necked computer geek.”

“Oh no,” said Kayla. “I know some computer nerds. There were lots in my high school. And lots at the college. Gamer types, mostly. Most of of them were total assholes. You’re not an asshole, Martin. You’re nice.”

“Gee, thanks,” I chuckled. “I think they call that ‘damning with faint praise.’”

“You know what I mean. You’re a good guy. But no girlfriend? How do you stand it?”

“Thankfully there’s the Internet.”

“Yuck. Too much information, Martin. You shouldn’t have stopped me last night. We could have had some fun.”

“No!” I said. “That wasn’t real. You weren’t doing it because you wanted to. I can get a call-girl any time I want, you know... I even tried it once, but I couldn’t go through with it. It’s fake, a performance. And a person having to sell their body is awful. No one should have to do that. You should never have to do that.”

“And I haven’t. I was willing to make an exception one time. With you.”

She smiled at me. I blushed.

When we finished eating, Kayla asked, “So what now?”

“Well, let’s get a cab and get you to the bus station.”

Kayla surprised me when she reached across and touched my hand.

“You’re either the nicest guy I ever met,” she said, “or the biggest sucker.”

~~~~

The lobby was full of frustrated travelers. The concierge explained that most roads had not been plowed and taxis were scarce.

The bus terminal phone line played a recording saying all buses were canceled or delayed until midnight.

“We’re stuck,” I said to Kayla.

She looked outside. The snow had slowed but everything was still buried.

“Did you pack any casual clothes?” she asked.

“Well, I have a windbreaker, a fleece jacket, sweatpants...”

We went back to the room where she dumped her backpack and I changed. Then she led me down the fire escape to the back of the hotel where the dumpsters sat.

It seemed warmer than the night before and the wind had stopped. It was so quiet with no traffic and the new snow dampening all sound. The sun was a feeble smear in the overcast sky.

Kayla started looking inside the dumpsters. She pulled out a two large pieces of clean cardboard.

“C’mon” she said and pulled me up the big hill behind the hotel.

Some kids were already sliding on snow boards and sleds. Kayla bent the cardboard into two a makeshift sleds. She hopped on one and whizzed down the hill. I sat on the other and followed.

The cardboard worked well, sometimes going faster than the kids on their fancy sleds and snow boards.

Kayla and I laughed and played, sometimes sliding on our own or sliding together on one cardboard with Kayla sitting behind me, legs wrapped around and holding me from behind.

“It’s so you get all the snow in your face,” she laughed.

Once I was standing up at the bottom of the hill when I heard “Look out!”

I barely turned before Kayla plowed into me and sent me flying.

“Sorry,” she laughed, “I think my cardboard’s steering is broken.”

I got her back with a snowball to the face.

We forgot everything and became two normal people having fun on a snow day. It felt like the times when I was young and snuck away with a friend from school to go sliding. My parents were livid when found out, terrified I’d stressed my heart.

After two hours, Kayla and I were tired, wet, and our cardboard was falling apart. We threw it back into the dumpster and started back up to my room, laughing like school kids.

“How did you know cardboard was good for sliding on, Kayla?”

“Oh, it’s in the handbook they give to all certified street people. Right before the section on stealing steak knives for self-defense.”

I shoulder-checked her into the wall.

“Actually,” she said, “one year my brothers both got fancy sleds for Christmas... you know the ones you sit on with a steering wheel? I got Barbie dolls. When they went off sliding, I followed with one of the boxes. They were pissed when my cardboard box went faster than their sleds.”

~~~~

When we closed the door to the room, I said, “You’re soaked. And you must be freezing. You go have a shower first.”

Kayla smiled and shook her head.

“No? Okay, then I’ll go first. I’ll be quick.”

She kept smiling as she shook her head again. Without a word, Kayla pulled me into the bathroom and started the shower. She started taking off her clothes.

“Kayla?” I asked, wide-eyed as I watched her strip.

When she was naked, she lifted my shirt over my head and helped remove the rest of my clothes. She saw the scar denting the length of my sternum, then traced it gently with her fingertips. She looked at me sympathetically and pecked my cheek.

Kayla stepped into the shower and pulled me in with her.

I just stood there, naked with a hard-on like steel, uncertain as she adjusted the water. Was she trying to pay me back again? Doing what I think I wanted? With her smile and playfulness it didn’t seem so.

Kayla hugged me and walked us sideways until we were both under the spray of the shower. She held me loosely as the warm water cascaded down our bodies. She looked at me with a little smile.

She handed me the soap. “Do my back?” she asked and turned around. She bent forward, placing both hands against the wall and sticking out her ass.

I soaped her shoulders and upper arms, mesmerized by her warm, smooth skin. When I massaged a shoulder, Kayla moaned.

“Mmmm,” she said. “Nice.”

I continued to soap and massage her, then worked down to her lovely bum. It was firm, shapely and exquisite. As I massaged the cheeks of her ass, I studied how her waist flared out to her womanly hips. I wanted to memorize the shape of her.

Kayla must have figured I would never stop fondling her slick, soapy bum because after a few moments she stood and took my hands, guiding them around her into an embrace. She then moved them up to her marvelous breasts.

Her boobs were slightly too large fit in my hands completely. I instinctively began to massaged and stroke them.

“Oh... now that’s really nice,” she said and reached around me to stroke the back of my neck.

I asked, “Why are you doing this, Kayla?”

She gave a naughty smile. “Doing what? We’re just getting warm. Just getting clean. Will you help me get clean?”

I ran my soapy hands all over her as she stood with a slightly dazed expression and a little smile.

Kayla then took her turn cleaning me, soaping and massaging every inch of my body, exploring my chest, massaging my back, stroking my dick a few times and making me jump when she teased my asshole.

“I’m all warmed up now. You?”

I had no voice. I nodded.

We rinsed off a final time and stepped out, turning off the water. The mirrors were completely fogged.

Kayla let me dry every inch of her at least twice. She lifted her arms giving me full access to her breasts, then turned so I could dry her back and bum, then lifted one foot to the edge of the tub while I got on my knees to dry her legs and in between.

Her pussy was more beautiful than her drawings. Exquisitely formed, so vulnerable.

“I know I’m a little shaggy,” she said as she watched me examining her. “Would you like to give me a trim?” She looked down with an impish smile. “Or shave me bare?”

My heart and my dick felt like they would both explode.

Kayla dried me and pulled me into the cool of the main room. I was still speechless, entranced by her beauty, unsure what was happening. I was especially captivated by the sight of her ass as she walked.

Suddenly, she stopped and without looking back, began to wiggle her hips with slow exaggerated movements. She raised her arms above her head as she swayed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked back and grinned. “I’m giving you a good look, since you were looking at my ass again. And seeing how you nearly busted your ankle the other night trying to sneak a peek.”

How did she know?

After a few moments, she turned and held my hands.

“So... what are we doing, Kayla? You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to reward me.”

“This time I want to,” she said. Unlike last night, her face and her tone agreed.

She said, “I feel like a normal human being for the first time in months. I’m not worried about food. Or where to sleep. I’m warm. Safe. I have a nice guy to be with and...” She reddened. “I need this. More than anything else right now.”

She pulled me into a kiss. A long, loving kiss. While I was savoring that, Kayla reached down to grasp me.

She pulled away and looked down. She said, “huh... you’re long.”

“Not really. It’s only because I’m skinny. Makes me look long. Besides, didn’t you see it last night?”

“It was a little dark. Here... I’d better take a second look.”

With that, she went to her knees and after a moment of inspection, took me in her mouth. My knees weakened from the sensation of her warm, wet mouth surrounding me. She looked up at me with big eyes as she swirled her tongue and fondled my balls.

Unlike her frenzied bobbing the previous might, Kayla took her time, gently pleasured me, her eyes never once leaving mine. I caressed her hair and watched her. I had nothing to compare it to, but it seemed like she had some experience. She also seemed to enjoy watching my reactions.

Just as I was getting close, she released me and stood, a gentle smile lighting her face.

She guided one of my hands down between her legs. She was completely wet.

“That’s because of you,” she breathed.

“But why?”

“Because I like you. Because you’re kind. Because you’ve treated me with respect and made me feel like a human being. Because you forgave me for stealing your stuff even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Come on, Kayla...”

“I’m not finished. And because you want me. I’m pretty sure you wanted me since the first day you saw me at breakfast.” She pressed herself against me. “I love being wanted again. Will you show me how much you want me, Martin?”

“I... I’d disappoint you. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, I bet you do. But I can teach you.”

“Teach me?”

“Sure,” she said. “I can show you a few things.” She grinned. “Sex education’s on me, if you want it.”

We got into bed and kissed and explored each other. After a few minutes, Kayla pulled me on top of her and spread her legs.

“Let’s just start with the basics,” she said.

“Condom?” I asked.

She guided my hand to the rod under the skin of her upper arm.

“Implant. We won’t be making any little Martins or Kaylas today.”

“I’ve, uh, never done it without a condom. Are you...”

“I haven’t been with anyone since before I left home. And I never slept around. I’m clean. But I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Any concerns I had vanished the moment my dick found her opening and Kayla started guiding me into her. She was warm and snug. The sensation of entering her with nothing between us was beyond anything I had ever felt before, beyond anything I had imagined.

Kayla arched and groaned, closing her eyes as I sank in half way. I pulled back a little and sank further, bringing another satisfied groan. When I was fully seated inside her, Kayla opened her eyes and smiled with such lust and satisfaction I nearly came right away.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “You’re long.” She wriggled, stirring me inside, savoring the feeling.

Her expression became serious. “Fuck me, Martin. Just fuck me. When you need to come, just come. Inside. Don’t hold back. This time is just for you, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered. I withdrew and pushed in again. It felt even better.

Kayla moaned and lifted her legs to allow me deeper. “God, you feel good. Fuck me... please fuck me.”

Kayla and I moved together slowly at first, finding a rhythm, driven by our mutual need and the desire to please each other. I looked deep into her eyes as I drove deep into her body.

A hunger awoke inside me, an urge I didn’t know existed. I wanted to do this with her forever. I wanted to make her groan with pleasure and feel the rapture of being deep inside her, of wanting her, of knowing she wanted me.

The hunger consumed me so slowly until I became little more than a beast blindly copulating with my mate. Then I was not gentle. Kayla writhed beneath me, urging me into her with her hands, her legs, her hips, moaning and panting as I took her.

The suddenness of my orgasm was painful. Kayla grunted when I jammed myself deep into her and began filled her with everything I had. The pleasure was blinding. It was a triumph. And when Kayla cooed happily and clung as she felt me inseminate her, it was joy.

Afterward, we held each as we tried to catch our breath.

“I think you liked that,” she said.

I stroked her cheek. “Was that okay? I didn’t last long.”

She chuckled. “Oh God... it was more than okay! And you needed to come. Now we can take it easier.”

“Did you come?”

Smiling, Kayla said, “No. I’ve never come just from doing that. It was still fantastic. You certainly made me feel wanted. Hell, at the end there it was like I was undergoing some kind of demonic possession. You beast.”

She grinned and hugged me. “Don’t worry. We have all afternoon and all night. I’ll show you a few ways you can make me come.”

We talked and caressed each other. It wasn’t long before I was hard again.

“Wow,” said Kayla. “Ready again. Good. Did you ever do it doggy style?”

“No. Only missionary.”

“Boy... I have so much to teach you. C’mon, big guy....” She threw back the covers and positioned herself with head down and ass up. She looked back at me with a naughty expression, waggling her bum. “Fuck me like I’m your bitch in heat.”

What a lovely sight: Kayla’s bum in the air, her hips gracefully narrowing to her waist, the look on her face as she waited for me to take her, her beautiful pussy slick from our first mating.

I lined up and drove into her with one insistent push.

“Oof.” Kayla jerked her head up in response then lowered her cheek to the mattress.

I took her with measured but urgent strokes. She felt different from that angle, and I found the sight of her submitting to me in such a primal position incredibly erotic.

Kayla urged me on. “That’s it. Fuck me. Show me how much you want me. Make me feel like your woman.”

She pushed back as I fucked her, moaning and grunting and urging me on with filthy talk. Halfway through, Kayla asked me to hold still while she fucked herself back into me for a while, doing all the work while I marveled in the sight of her impaling herself.

Soon we were again rutting like animals. Kayla reached between her legs to play with her clit while I held her hips and took her. Soon I saw her head loll as she breathed out heavily followed by a new sensation: inside, her passage began to grip me rhythmically. She was coming.

That realization caused me to start filling her a second time. It was so intense my legs gave out and I fell on top of her.

When we separated, she said “I think we’re getting better at that.”

“Yeah, I think so. But I think we need more practice,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”

Kayla eyed the scar on my chest. “You’re not going to croak on me from all this exercise, are you?”

I smiled. “I told you... they fixed me. I’m all better. But if I do die, it’ll be as the happiest man on the planet.”

We played in bed through the afternoon and into the night. Kayla was a patient teacher, letting me try different positions and guiding me in how to please a woman. She showed me how to touch her, how to lick her, and encouraged me to be open about what I liked in return. She was at times sweet, gentle, wild, filthy and everything I had ever imagined.

Once I learned what she particularly liked, I discovered that with a little effort I could make her come, and did it so many times that night that finally she begged me to stop.

By daybreak, we had tried most positions. She even lay back while I trimmed the unkempt fur between her legs. Kayla found that so arousing she eagerly pulled me up to fuck her again the moment I finished.

~~~~

By next morning the streets had been plowed, and the city was back to normal.

At the bus station, we waited for the bus to board. Kayla clutched her ticket, looking radiant.

“I can’t believe I’m finally getting out of here,” she beamed. “The end to a nightmare.” She kissed me. “Thank you.”

“I hope things work out the way you plan. But in case things happen and you get stuck...” I pressed four fifty-dollar bills into her hand.

She looked at it. “You know, they say it’s not good to give a street person money.” She grinned. “But thanks. I can finally buy that crack and heroin I’ve been craving.”

I smiled. “Just try to hang onto it, Kayla. Use it for food along the way. And if you get into trouble, here.” I handed her my business card.

“All right!” she said. “Now I know who to sue for paternity. And who to notify when my HIV test comes back positive.”

“You’re in a good mood this morning. You were always so serious before.”

“Sure I’m in a good mood. I’m getting out of here. I’m getting my life back. And I’ve been fucked raw by a really great, slightly funny looking guy.”

I shushed her and looked around at the crowd, embarrassed.

Kayla looked at me seriously. “You know, Martin. You’re a good guy. Considerate. Not bad looking. You don’t need to be alone. A little confidence and you could find someone no problem.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Meh,” she said. “You don’t have any problem talking to me. Not anymore. And you were great in bed. I mean it. How about this... if you get flustered with a girl, think of me. What we did together. Maybe that’ll help.”

The bus started boarding.

She kissed me again and said, “Thank you, Martin. For helping me. For treating me like a person.”

Kayla waved as the bus pulled away. I started missing her immediately.

I never saw her again. I like to think her brothers took her in, she finished her graphic arts program, and she became a successful artist.

I searched for her online, but I didn’t know her last name. Maybe she hadn’t even told me her real name. Perhaps none of what she said was true. A year later, some artwork similar to what she had shown me appeared on an online auction under a pseudonym. I wrote, but there was no reply.

At the bus station, Kayla thought I had given her so much. But my gifts were fleeting: food, a bus ticket, some money. What she gave me changed me forever. With effort, I found confidence to talk to women, thinking of my time with her just as she suggested. It helped knowing if I did wind up in bed, Kayla’s lessons would help me please them. Soon I had several relationships until finally I found the one that has lasted to this day.