Lightning flashed, flickering on the curtains and
walls. Dave heaved up out of his chair and looked outside.
Storm clouds rolled and swelled above the trees. Dark,
forbidding, they filled the formerly clear sky with chaos. It
should have been an hour before dark, but the storm leached all
the brightness from the sky.
Another flash of lightning startled Dave. He saw
the afterimage of the lightning hitting not far away. The roar
of thunder sounded like a giant angry lion on the prowl. Dave's
attention went to the TV antenna on a post in the middle of the
clearing. It was an obvious target for the lightning. Dave
hurried to the TV and pulled the plug from the wall. He
disconnected the antenna wire and stood looking forlornly at the
The wind picked up considerably over the next few
minutes, a wind that broke trees and removed shingles from even
the sturdiest roof.
"Good God," Dave whispered. It looked like the end
of the world. The lights flickered, but thankfully remained on.
He sat in his recliner and watched the horrendous storm from the
safe comfort of his chair. The lights flickered again. He
decided that he had better find candles and a lighter. The power
was bound to go out soon. It usually did in a storm.
Within 30 minutes most of the lightning had passed
on, but the wind and the rain remained. Dave was bored, and
worried. How was his car? It was a fully restored 1969 Mercury
Montego. He had put a lot of work into it. Dave went to the
nearest window, trying to see his car in the wind and rain. He
could barely make out the shine of light off the trim around the
windshield. A distant flash of lightning momentarily lit the
car, and he gasped in surprise. Something was wrong. He could
see something, he was not sure what, which looked out of place.
He thought about it for a moment and realized that he had seen
something in the car. He went shopping yesterday, did he leave
anything in the car? No, he didn't. A person?
He bundled up in a thick coat, picked up the poker
and a flashlight, and hurried out the door. Seven long strides
brought him to the car. He yanked open the door and turned on
the flashlight. He was looking something in the face. All he
could see was a small nose and two eyes amid a bundle of
stinking, wet clothing.
"What the hell are you doing in there?" he
demanded, brandishing the poker.
"Trying to get dry," a distinctive female voice
said. He was momentarily at a loss.
"Get out," he ordered, raising the poker as if to
strike. Slowly the girl climbed out. She took a bookbag from
the floor and stood. She was almost as tall as Dave. He was
surprised, he had thought she might be a small girl. She was in
her late teens. She started to turn away.
"No, into the house," he said, stepping back. He
was getting soaked. Rain was running into his eyes, making it
hard to see.
"To get dry, silly. I have heat and food
"I don't know," she said uncertainly.
"I could call the cops and have you arrested
instead. I would probably be doing you a favor."
"No, don't do that. I'll come in for a while," she
said reluctantly. He hurried her inside. It was a relief to get
out of the rain. It was hard to think when wind and rain tore at
your face and body. She opened her clothes slightly and he found
that she was pretty, in a way, but she looked dirty and smelled
horrible. How could anybody be dirty after standing in that
rain, he wondered.
"What would you like to eat?" he asked, sitting
down the flashlight and dropping the poker by the
She hurried over to the fireplace and knelt before
it. She rubbed her hands and moaned, then looked up as if she
only then realized that he was still in the room. "Scrambled
eggs and chili?"
"Oh gross. I don't have chili," Dave said, making
"What have you got?"
"I had meatloaf and potatoes for supper. There's a
"Fine. I'll make a sandwich out of the meatloaf,
and I only eat butter on my mashed potatoes."
Dave showed her the leftovers in the refrigerator.
She added cheese to the plate containing the meatloaf and took it
all to the table.
"You... you stink," Dave said emphatically. "Do
you want to take a shower?"
"Sure, but all my clothes are dirty. I have
nothing to change into."
"I'll give you clothing if you take a shower. The
stench is ungodly. Where have you been staying?"
"Under porches, in utility sheds or doorways,
sometimes in homeless shelters if they don't ask too many
"None of your damned business."
"Fair enough, as long as you aren't wanted by the
law. Did you kill anybody?"
"Hey fuck you," she slammed her sandwich down on
"Sorry. I just want to know who will be sharing my
roof tonight. I'm a little worried."
"Well don't be. The only thing I'm wanted for is
assault on my husband. I married him when I was sixteen. He
beat me every time he got drunk, so I beat him with a piece of
pipe while he was asleep. Then I ran. I don't think I killed
him, but I didn't stick around to find out. Ok?" she
She picked up her sandwich and began to eat. "You
married?" she asked, looking around the house suspiciously.
"Why not, you gay?" she asked in all
"Hell no!" he said defensively.
She gave him a skeptical look then returned to her
sandwich. Dave saw an unusual movement on her face.
"There is a flea crawling in your eyebrow," he
pointed. She rubbed her eyebrow furiously with the back of her
hand, then continued her meal.
"I have fleas everywhere," she said calmly. "Goes
with the territory."
"How can you live like this? Don't you have
somewhere to go?"
"What about your parents, your aunts or
"I've never had a father, my mother is a whore, and
I never knew any aunts or uncles. If I go home my husband will
have me beaten to death. It ain't gonna happen."
"Shit, what a waste."
"You can't live like this. Look at you."
She simply shrugged and sat, shoving mashed
potatoes and butter into her mouth. She chewed noisily, while he
stood watching. She finally stopped and glared at him until he
went into the living room. He reconnected his TV set and sat
with the channel changer in his hand. At first he had been
excited by the prospect of a female in the house. But now he
considered her sub-human, hardly worthy of anything but pity. He
could smell her even from there. God, how could anybody live
"Can I take a shower?" she asked, standing between
the living room and the dining room. He looked up, wishing she
would leave and take her fleas with her.
"Sure," he heard himself saying. It's in there,"
he pointed behind her at the bedroom. The master bath had a full
bathtub, which she badly needed. A shower wouldn't be enough.
He followed her into the bedroom and handed her a towel.
"Go ahead," he pointed at the bathroom. I'll try
to find something that will fit you. I will also bring a garbage
bag for your clothes.
"Don't throw them away, I need them. Wash them in
Lysol," she said as she began dropping clothes on the bathroom
floor. He watched in wonder as layer after layer of clothing
came off. Besides her jacket, she was wearing a dozen different
shirts and pants. She stopped as she was about to remove a man's
"Are you going to watch?" she demanded.
"Yes," he said firmly. She didn't even flinch.
She pulled the t-shirt off, baring a wonderful set of small,
firm, but dirty tits. She wasn't wearing a bra. He turned red
in embarassment and hurried out. Once again he was thinking of
her as a female, not a sub-human.
"What's your name?" he called through the partially
open bathroom door.
"Linda. Linda Jane."
"I'm Dave," he said as the water began running in
"Hi. Got dove?"
"Dove soap. Do you have any?"
"No, I use ivory." It just goes to show, a beggar
can be a choser, he thought as he looked through his closet for
his old, small clothing which hadn't fit in 5 years. He laid out
a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting shirt. It was the best he
cold do. The jeans were well worn, the shirt was a cowboy shirt
with a rose on the back. He wouldn't get caught dead in it, it
had been a Christmas present front an aunt.
Dave heard her singing. The door was open a foot.
He walked by the open door and glanced inside. She was washing
her arms, paying no attention to him, and showing no concern over
the open door. She had armpit hair which was longer than Dave's.
He shuddred and hurried on, then stopped, unable to resist.
He backed up a step and looked in. She was washing
her neck, then moved the washrag down to her chest. She looked
up and caught him looking. He heard her giggle as he hurried
Dave found that his dick was hard. The brief
glance showed that she was not only young, she was beautiful with
a killer figure. If she could ever get the dirt off, she would
be beautiful. He found himself planning accidents. He could
accidentally back into the door and knock it open. He could take
her a towel and accidently look in. There were many
possibilities. Part of him wanted to leave her in peace. She
had the right to be safe and unmolested. The other part wanted
to throw her on the bed and fuck her brains out. The internal
struggle was killing him.
"Do you have a dousche?" she called. Dave's eyes
bugged out. He thought about the few girls who had been in the
house. No, none had left a dousche.
"A turkey baster?"
"Yeah," he said in surprise. "Now why... oh."
He took a good look before handing her the baster.
Her body was clean. It was lightly tanned, compact, and sexy as
hell. It had taken on a golden shine in the subtle lights of the
bathroom. The tan on her hands and face was much darker than the
rest of her body. But God, how perfect her compact little body
looked. Every nook and cranny spelled sex.
"You like?" she asked with a smile, looking down at
her own body and spreading her hands.
"My God, you're beautiful," he gasped.
"Am I? I used to be pudgy. But I haven't eaten
well lately. I guess I lost some weight."
"You're perfect. I can't believe all that was
hidden beneath those dirty clothes. What a waste."
"Thanks. Can I have that?" she reached for the
baster. He handed it to her and turned to get her a towel.
"I haven't been this clean in a year," she said.
Dave heard the sound of the baster slurping up water, then
spitting it out again. His cock was aching unbearably. He held
the towel in front of it as he returned. She didn't even try to
hide. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she had her legs spread
and the baster half way up her pussy. As he watched she squeezed
the ball. Water cascaded out of her pussy. He restrained a moan
THE MEMBERS SECTION