“Will You Be My Valetine Day Date?”

This is a Valentine’s Day contest story. Please give me the support of your vote.

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Memories from the past, this is a true recount of a man who tries to pick up a woman at McDonald’s as his sexy Valentine’s Day date.

After losing everything in a flood, there was a time when Susan Jill Parker was homeless, sleeping at a shelter, and eating at a mission. Not proud of it, but better than living in a shelter, for nearly the past four years, she’s been squatting in the spare bedroom offered to her by a kind and elderly, albeit crazy Mennonite woman named Hannah. At least she has a roof over her head and food to eat most times.

Not all one-sided, she’s morphed and transitioned from being her invited guest to being her unpaid maid, housekeeper, cook, home health caretaker, chauffeur, and friend. Most times a real struggle not having any money to buy the things that she needs and to do the things that she’d like to do, it’s sometimes still a challenge to go through life with dignity. It’s sometimes difficult watching television or a movie while knowing everyone you see has so very much while you have so very little.

Even now in this so called robust economy, more for the superrich, the top one percent, than for the middle class, there are still no jobs other than part-time, low paying jobs that offer no benefits. Even if she wanted to start all over again and take an entry level job somewhere, she no longer has a car and with the bus stop too far to walk to, she’s doomed to stay where she is. Besides, if she took a job, no longer having the time to care for Hannah and thusly having no place to live, she couldn’t even afford rent when working at a minimum wage job.

Yet, this story isn’t about Susan Jill Parker’s life now. This story is about a real and typical experience that she had with a man when she was homeless four years ago. She’s had many experiences like this one, many much worse than this, but she chose to write about this specific experience because it relates to Valentine’s Day.

* * * * *

Being that today was Valentine’s Day, the day of love, and after having scraped up enough coinage, Susan decided to treat herself to lunch at McDonalds. Normally, as long as it wasn’t too nasty, what she ate was whatever was tossed in dumpsters behind restaurants in downtown Harrisburg. Things that are still edible, healthy, and good, it’s amazing the food that restaurants discard.

Sometimes when hungry enough, what some would never consider eating before, they’d eat now. Eat or die, when hungry enough, starvation sometimes dictates people to eat anything to survive. After a while getting to know the kitchen help, with her hanging out behind their restaurant backdoors, instead of her having to go dumpster diving to compete with the rats and roaches, they’d hand her something good to eat for free.

Against restaurant policies and rules in the way that employees are warned not to feed stray cats and dogs, she knew that they only handed her food because she was pretty, albeit pretty dirty too. Knowing they could get in trouble, even fired, she knew they only gave her food because they wanted something from her in return. Yet, if she could get what she needed to survive by using her good looks and her shapely body, what’s so wrong with that?

Movie stars and celebrities do that their entire careers. Powerful politicians exchange their influence for favors and for money all the time. A feel of her big tits for a cup of a coffee and a donut, not only seemed like a fair trade but also sounded good to her at the time when she was dying for a cup of coffee and something good to eat.

It would have been worse if she had been directly responsible for her homelessness, but she wasn’t directly responsible for her homelessness. It would have been worse if she was homeless because she was a drunk or on drugs, but she didn’t drink and never took drugs. It would have been worse if she was homeless because she was mentally ill. Yet, as evidence of her surviving while living on the streets of downtown Harrisburg for six, long, cold, hard months, she still had all of her quick wits and even her sense of humor, about her.

Unfortunate circumstances after her divorce and with the recession causing her to lose her job, both attributed to her desperation and forced her to move from Boston to Pennsylvania to live with her mother. As if this was her destiny, the good Lord chose to put her in harm’s way of a real disaster, the great flood of the Susquehanna River from tropical storm Lee on September 11, 2011. With no job and no money, she lost everything, including her car in one the greatest floods in Pennsylvania’s history since the Johnstown flood of 1889, the New Castle flood in 1913, and Hurricane Agnes in 1972.

* * * * *

Back then, it was a big deal for Susan to come up with enough money to have a meal at McDonalds. After not eating regularly every day, even though their food never sat right with her, nonetheless this meal was a real feast and a special treat. Only, not hardly enough food to sustain her throughout the day, she knew after eating this meager meal, she’d still be hungry. At the very least, what she ate now should tie her over until she had a hot meal at the mission later today. Yet, even though she was happy finally having something to eat, there’s always someone ready to ruin her good time when she just wanted to be left alone to eat her food.

A special occasion, Susan had been looking forward to celebrating her Valentine’s Day by having lunch at McDonalds since yesterday. The cheapest thing on the menu that she could afford, cheeseburger, small fry, and a cup of water, she handed the clerk most of her pocket change. Better than dumpster diving, she was happy with her meager lunch. Being that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday at the mission, if there was one word to describe her meal, it would certainly and appropriately be a happy meal.

No matter much what she ate, she was happy to have something to eat while being able to use the restroom before and after her meal. Their price of admission, McDonalds refuses homeless people the use of their restrooms unless they buy something to eat and/or to drink. Not strictly monitored but just in case she was hassled while using the restroom, she pocketed her receipt that came to two dollars and change. With McDonalds the only place she could buy something decent to eat, and with there not being very many public restrooms available to the homeless, she couldn’t eat anywhere for two dollars and change.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” she said just as a stranger walked over to her table.

Just as she was about to take the first bite of her food, just what she needed, the sexual attraction of yet another weirdo. She looked up at him and gave him a look that would make most men leave. She looked from him to look at the food on his tray. Susan assumed he had a quarter pounder or a Big Mac being that it was in a box instead of wrapped in paper as was her hamburger.

“Hi,” said the man staring down at her while holding his lunch, a Big Mac, large fries, a cup of coffee, a cup of water, and a piece of apple pie.

With her not wearing any makeup and embarrassed by her messy hair, nonetheless her disheveled appearance, he looked down at her and smiled. Sensing she was unintentionally giving him a down blouse view of her long line of cleavage and her dirty bra, she put a hand to close the top of her blouse and to deny him any more free looks. Normally no longer bothering her to give any man a free look of her cleavage and bra, when she was wearing a bra, with her not wanting to entice and/or encourage him, this man just seemed weird. With her street smarts and her inherent ability to sense things about people, with him setting off her alarm alert, he looked like trouble.

“Hi,” she said holding her burger in her hands while staring up at the man who forestalled her from taking a first bite of her cheeseburger.

As if she was a beat cop noting the description of a perpetrator of a potential and probable crime, he was a man in his 40’s of average height, about 5’9″ tall, and weighing about 160 pounds with dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She looked up at him with impatient confusion. She just wanted to be left alone to eat her lousy, God damn burger. Normally with everyone minding their own business and keeping to themselves, in the months she’s been frequenting this restaurant, whenever she could afford it, just as she doesn’t talk to anyone, no one talks to her. Sometimes, when it was really cold and she had no money, with her desperate enough to go to the counter to ask, the manager would give her a free cup of coffee, as long as she drank it outside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said.

Acting as if he knew her, he beamed a big, toothy smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” she said before dismissing him by not looking at him for her to focus more on her food than on him and by taking a bite of her burger.

She hoped he’d go away. When she looked up again, she hoped he’d be gone. Yet, still standing there, he watched her chewing her food. With him standing over her and looking down at her, she got the creeps. She gave him a little smile before a look of sadness crossed her face that he dared remind her that today was Valentine’s Day, the day of love, and that was now just another day of heartache and loneliness to her.

He reminded her that she was alone with no one there to help her, to love her, and to wish her a Happy Valentine’s Day but for this strange stranger. Suddenly a barrage of all of the Valentine’s Days she ever had flashed through her mind as if a video on superfast speed. Being that this was her personal and private Valentine’s Day celebration, she knew it was Valentine’s Day but for a strange man to remind her of the holiday by wishing her a Happy Valentine’s Day didn’t sit right with her. Always being bothered and hassled by strange men when collecting cans and bottles in back alleys, she didn’t want to be bothered by yet another strange man while eating her lunch in McDonalds.

After divorcing her ex and losing her job, she left Boston to live with her mother. Then, after losing everything in a flood and with her whore of a mother taking off with yet another man, she never thought she’d be homeless. Taking the basic necessities of life for granted, she never thought feeding herself, keeping herself warm and hydrated with enough liquids, finding a bathroom, finding a place to sleep at night, and keeping herself safe would be her biggest challenges and struggles. This is America after all, isn’t it? The land of excess and the land where we have plenty enough to help others in other countries when we can’t even employ, feed, and house our own citizens.

‘God bless fucking America,’ is what she always said before closing her eyes for the night.

Whenever she watched the news, she hated seeing those rich assholes ringing the bell at the close of Wall Street’s business for the day. With all the bailout money that Bush and Paulson gave to banks and insurance companies, the least that banks and insurance can do as an appreciative payback is to offer a free continental breakfast to all the now homeless folks who they displaced after foreclosing on their homes. Yet, with the passage of time and with business as usual, seemingly all of that is forgotten.

All of that is in the past, ancient history, and never to be revisited again. If only politicians would help people by giving anyone who wants to work a good paying job, she’d have no complaint. Only they’re all too busy soliciting campaign donations, feathering their own nest, and engaging in party politics than doing what they were voted into office to do, to represent all Americans and not just a special few.

* * * * *

It’s been years since she’s had the company of a man on Valentine’s Day or on any day since her divorce for that matter. Now with the disheveled condition she was in, her dirty clothes, her messy hair, and with her imagining that she was could smell herself, the last thing she wanted was the company of a man. What she’d prefer is a hot bath and a cup of hot, black coffee instead of the cup of warm water that she had sitting in front of her. What she’d prefer is eating what he was about to eat instead of the flat, tasteless burger that she was eating.

“May I join you?”

In the way she was excited about having a meager meal at McDonalds, as if he was really pleased to celebrate dining with her, he looked at her with excited anticipation.

“Do I know you?”

While looking at him as if trying to place his face, she looked at him in the way she looked at all the weirdoes in Wal-Mart who routinely stared at her whenever she had enough money to buy something she needed. With a homeless woman an easy mark, strange men, weird men, abnormal, and immoral men always approached her. Seemingly with her now their any port in a storm woman and with them having a place to go home to after they’ve had sex with her, every day was a hurricane for her. In the way of a mail carrier, whether it was heat, cold, rain, sleet, or snow, every day she was out in the foul weather, until they opened the shelter for the night. Yet, even the mail carriers had a vehicle that they could duck inside to keep warm.

“No, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he said.

She returned to eating her burger as if she hadn’t eaten in a while. She didn’t have to fake her hunger or her interest in her burger for her to ignore the man still standing in front of her. She was starving. Only, instead of gobbling down her burger in three bites, she took small bites to make it last longer and to pretend that she was eating more food than what she had to eat. Besides, she needed to give her stomach time to know there was food on the way. Then, with him not taking the hint and still standing there, she lashed out at him.

“Listen, Pal,” she said giving him a cold stare that made him take a step back. “I always eat alone. Besides my boyfriend is up at the counter. He’s that big, black man,” she said. “He’ll be here any minute so you’d better scram.”

She gave him a look that could melt steel.

“Oh, I thought you always ate alone,” he said with a victorious grin along with a bit of an attitude.

She hated men like him, men who thought they were so smugly smart when they were just mentally twisted and insufferably annoying. Just by his immediate sarcasm, she knew he’d be a problem. He looked from her to look at the big, black man and to watch the man leave the counter to sit at another table before looking back at her. Before he could say anything about her supposed boyfriend sitting elsewhere and before he could say anything else to upset her, she verbally attacked him in the way that only a Detroit diva or a homeless woman can.

“Get lost loser. Scram,” she said taking control of her situation in the way she always did and needed to do when confronted by a man in a back alley. “Fuck off weirdo,” she said when he didn’t leave. “Beat it. Hit the road,” she said raising her voice in the way that Dustin Hoffman’s character did as Ratsy Rizzo in Midnight Cowboy. In the way that he yelled, “I’m walking here,” when he jaywalked in front of a New York taxi cab and was nearly hit, she yelled, “I’m eating here.”

Still standing there and staring down at her, no doubt trying to look down her blouse to see what more he could see of her, he looked from her to look down at his tray. In the way he was looking at her with kindness instead of with horniness in the way that most men do, she suddenly felt bad that she had treated him so rudely.

“Here. This is for you,” he said handing her his apple pie and putting it beside her when she didn’t reach up her hand to accept it and take it. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said walking away.

* * * * *

She felt like such a shit for being so mean to him. Unbelievably no longer hungry, she lost her appetite for food but suddenly gained her appetite for human companionship, even if he was a strange man. She had the same reaction but opposite as if he had slapped her across the face or threw cold water in her face. Unaccustomed to receiving anyone’s gesture of kindness, she looked from him to the apple pie before looking back at him walking away. She’d never waste the money to buy an apple pie when she could almost buy a second cheeseburger for the same price. Yet, now that apple pie was there sitting in front of her, she was looking forward to eating something sweet as part of her private Valentine’s Day celebration now turned public.

Ashamedly and regretfully, she lost more than her possessions when she became homeless. She lost her kind nature and her humanity. Just because she’s homeless, hungry, and poor shouldn’t mean that she should abandon her manners. Just because she’s homeless, hungry, and poor shouldn’t mean that she should be meanly envious of others just because they have so much more and she has so much less. Just because she’s homeless, hungry, and poor doesn’t give her the right and/or the reason to be a bitch. Just because she’s homeless, hungry, and poor doesn’t mean that she can’t show her appreciation for a kind gesture on Valentine’s Day.

Suddenly, as if she was a wild animal or a feral cat, she felt guilty for being so rude to him. Suddenly, she felt like the bitchy monster that men had turned her into when living on the dangerous, dirty streets. Sometimes her mean attitude was all the protection she had to prevent someone from sexually molesting her, beating her, and/or raping her. Suddenly, she thought, with stranger things happening and with everything happening for a reason, maybe this is kismet and her destiny that they should meet on of all days but the day of love, Valentine’s Day. He wasn’t so terribly bad looking enough that she wouldn’t give him a second glance and another chance at friendship.

Now seeing him in a different light while getting a different vibe from him, when she looked at him again, he didn’t look all that bad. He almost looked normal although her definition of normal had changed dramatically and her tolerance for all things not normal had certainly skewed by her desperate living conditions. With her social skills fading along with her good looks, maybe today she should act more like the reserved lady that she is instead of the homeless bitch that she had become. Difficult to remain positive, yet maybe today is the day that something good will happen instead of something bad.

“Wait. Come back. I’m sorry. I can use the company,” she said looking from him to his apple pie and back to him before giving him a sad smile. “With no one ever giving me anything, not my mother, my brothers, my ex-husband, or any of my so called friends, no one has ever given me their apple pie. Thank you,” she said. “Maybe we can share it.”

* * * * *

With a mere piece of apple pie so symbolic of a gesture on this day of love when others have so very much extra to buy their women perfume, candy, flowers, clothes, and jewelry, this dessert meant more to her than any of those things. When she smiled at him in the way that only Susan can do, the smile that sadness stole from her, the smile of happiness returned to his face. As if they were a couple enjoying a simple meal on Valentine’s Day instead of being strangers, all it took was his small gesture of kindness for her to remember who she once was.

“That would be nice,” he said. He returned her smile with his smile. “I’m Ralph,” he said holding out his hand.

When she didn’t offer him her hand in return he withdrew his hand. Self-conscious about her appearance, especially her hands, her hands weren’t the cleanest. Even though she washed in the women’s restroom with lots of soap and steamy hot water while scrubbing soap beneath her nails, her fingernails were a disaster and were caked with dirt from picking up dirty bottles and cans out of the gutter.

“Susan,” she said. “Sit,” she said. “I’m sorry but I’m not used to strangers being nice to me. Actually, I’m not used to anyone being nice to me unless they want something from me, usually a feel of my big tits, a hand job, and/or a blowjob,” she said chowing down on her French fries.

Oh, my God, she couldn’t believe she said that to a stranger, a man she didn’t even know. Where’s her manners? Where’s her discretion? Where’s her common decency? Sorry she said that, she couldn’t believe she blurted out that bit of personal, private, and despicable bit of information but, with her not talking to hardly anyone in months, she was nervous.

Unaccustomed to talking to people, other than to yell her anger at them, always keeping to herself, she hadn’t talked to anyone socially in a long while. When on the street, as if a big cat on the prowl, she walks with her head down and her eyes fixed straight ahead. Never wanting to be a victim, always walking with a purpose while watching out for danger, she captures as much information in her peripheral vision as she does looking straight ahead. Yet, a dangerous place to be, when walking through an isolated alley, she needs eyes in the back of her head.

After being shunned by her appearance, going on the offensive and always ready to attack before being attacked, slowly but surely she was turning into an animal, a junkyard dog. Immediately recognizing his look, he looked at her with a kind face before giving her a sexually excited look. The change in his facial expression would have been startling had she not seen it many times before. Having grown accustomed to men approaching her with small acts of kindness before wanting to use and abuse her for sex in exchange for money, giving men what they want allows her to buy what she needs. Obviously, with her unfortunately already opening that door by disclosing to him what she does to earn money, no doubt, he was thinking about feeling her big tits while she gave him a hand job before she gave him a blowjob.

“Well, I can assure you that I didn’t say hi to you because I wanted a feel of your big tits,” he said staring at her big tits. “I didn’t stop by your table because I wanted a hand job,” he said with a little nervous laugh and a wave of his disinterested hand as if the thought was absurd. “I didn’t stop by your table because I wanted a blowjob,” he said while staring at her mouth.

Only knowing his kind, she knew better. She knew the real reason why he stopped by her table and it wasn’t to wish her a Happy Valentine’s Day.

“I see,” she said.

Waiting for him to hang himself by showing his true colors, she knew it would only be a minute or two longer before he’d be unable to continue this ridiculous ruse.

“Being that it’s Valentine’s Day, I didn’t want to eat alone and when I saw you eating alone, I was hoping to join you,” he said obviously lying.

He smiled at her again while taking a bite of his burger. She stared at the ketchup, mustard, and special sauce collecting around his mouth as if she’d wanted to trade her flat burger for his Big Mac. As if she was a starving dog, she’d give him a kiss if it meant that she could lick the ketchup, mustard, and special sauce from his mouth.

“When there are so very many other women eating here alone,” she said looking around the restaurant at so many people young and old sitting alone before looking at him with suspicion. “Why me? What makes me so special?”

He waited until he was finished chewing before speaking. He wiped his mouth and took a sip of his water. Certainly, by the look of him, he looked like he had a few dollars. By the look of him, he had enough etiquette to dine in a finer restaurant instead of eating fast food at McDonalds. In the way that she’s been known to fly off the handle lately, he didn’t lose his manners just because of who he was with and/or where he was dining.

“Why not you is the question you should ask yourself? I don’t know. I saw something in your eyes. I felt your pain,” he said putting a hand to his chest, bowing his head, and closing his eyes as if pretending that he really could feel her anguish when she knew he couldn’t and didn’t.

“Oh,” she said.

If he was an actor playing a part in a movie, he wouldn’t win an Oscar. He opened his eyes to look up at her. Instead of giving her a look of sincerity, he gave her a lecherous look. Right there, she knew he was full of shit. Right there, she knew he was like every other man who wanted her for sex.

“Besides, with your long, blonde, beautiful hair and big, blue eyes, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re very pretty.”

With men not usually complimenting her but usually sexually using and abusing her instead, her cheeks blushed to show her embarrassment by his unsolicited, albeit backhanded compliment. Even though she knew he was full of crap, his compliment still tugged at her heart. This was Valentine’s Day after all and, just as she was hungry for food, she was hungry for love and affection too.

“Wow, I can’t believe it, a real gentleman,” she said with an undercurrent of cynicism. “In a world of horny men looking for what they can feel for free, you may be the first man who doesn’t want to feel my big tits,” she said. She looked down at her breasts while sticking out her chest before looking up at him staring at her tits. “You may be the first man who doesn’t want a hand job,” she said moving her hand back and forth as if she was giving him a hand job. “You may be the first man who doesn’t want a blowjob,” she said moving her hand back and forth in front of her mouth while pushing her cheek out with her tongue.

After having already gone down this road of seemingly mandatory, homeless prostitution before, she felt a little more comfortable teasing him and tempting him to trick him into revealing his true self. With her already recognizing him as the wolf in sheep’s clothing, a man who’d never give her something for nothing, he gave her a shit eating grin. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who’d want to feel her big tits. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who’d love for her to give him a hand job. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who’d love for her to give him a blowjob. Only, there was something about him that she didn’t like. There was something about him that was not right. There was something about him that put her on alert.

“I’m not asking anything of you other than to sit with you while enjoying our impromptu Valentine’s Day lunch,” he said smiling while pretending that was his only reason for him stopping by her table.

“Okay,” she said not believing him.

They remained sitting in silence for a minute without talking and before he showed the real reason why he asked if he could join her for lunch. Revealing his true self to her, he took advantage of her good nature by suddenly talking dirty to her. All it took for her to get him going was for her to talk dirty to him first. Yet, if he was truly a gentleman, he wouldn’t have fallen into her little trap in the way that he obviously did.

“Yet, if I was dating you and was lucky enough to be intimate with you, that’s not to say that I’d never want to feel your big tits,” he said pausing to stare at her big tits. “That’s not to say that I wouldn’t like for you to give me a hand job and/or even a blowjob,” he said looking at her mouth as if he was already imagining her giving him a blowjob while he felt her big tits and fingered her nipples. “That’s not to say that I wouldn’t want to make sweet, romantic love to you before pounding your pussy and before fucking your ass.”

Another crass asshole, she took a sip of her water while having second thoughts about accepting his apple pie and inviting him to sit with her. With her nervously eating, he didn’t touch his meal again after that first bite of his burger and a sip of his water. His coffee untouched, still had the lid on it. She’d do anything, almost anything, within reason, for a hot cup of black coffee. Evidentially, in the way he was staring at her, he was more interested in her than he was in his food. Perhaps he bought his lunch as just his pretense to sit at her table while dining with her.

“Generally with most men animals of the swine variety, I don’t come across very many gentleman,” she said now having serious doubts about him being a gentleman.

If he was anything, having met plenty of his kind before, he was nothing more than a mean and nasty pervert.

“I can assure you that my intentions are honorable,” he said.

Some gentleman he is. It was truly unbelievable that he can even say that he’s a gentleman and that his intentions are honorable after admitting that he’d love to pound her pussy before fucking her in her ass. Perhaps his definition of gentleman is much different than her definition of a gentleman. Perhaps, as long as he utters please before forcing his cock in her mouth and saying thank you after he cums in her mouth, he considers that as gentlemanly behavior.

“The last three men I had the displeasure of meeting beat me and tried to rape me in the back alley when I was picking up enough bottles and cans to cash in enough deposits to buy myself breakfast the next day,” she said. “If it wasn’t for a retired Marine, a gunnery sergeant, who beat the crap out of them, I may have been just another homeless woman in the morgue and just another police blotter statistic.”

Suddenly, thinking about Dave and where he is now, she looked sad. Her story to tell, maybe one day she’ll finish writing about her experiences. Having already written ten chapters, she already had a good title for the story, Bag Lady and the Retired Marine.

“So, what happened to your retired Marine?”

She looked at him as if he was Dave or someone looking to take the place of Dave as her new personal protector and savior.

“It’s a long, sad story that you really don’t want to know and I’m really not in the mood to tell it,” she said. “That’s just another unfinished chapter in my life.”

Suddenly she fell quiet while eating her food. Suddenly with all of her defenses up, she seemed distant and detached. Suddenly, she looked at him as if he wasn’t even there and she was back to eating alone. Suddenly and seemingly, he stared across the table at her in the way that a psychiatrist would stare when analyzing a patient.

“Is that what you do?”

Afraid to ask the question, she looked at him with hesitancy suppressing her curiosity. He remained staring at her in silence while watching her eat. Then, she relented and asked him what he meant.

“Pardon? What do you mean, is that what I do? Do what? What is it that you think that I do?”

He doesn’t know her. He has no idea who she is. All he sees is her blonde hair, her big, blue eyes, her pretty face, and her big tits. That’s his extent of seeing who she is. Unable to see the woman beyond the outside package, he’s like every other man who takes an interest in her mostly because she’s weak, vulnerable, susceptible, and homeless. How dare he try and hide behind his kindness when all he wants to do is to use her for his own personal, sexual satisfaction?

He looked at her with a mixture of interest, pity, and sudden sexual excitement all combined in one leering stare. Obviously seeing who she once was through her disheveled appearance, he looked at her as if she was something valuable that he found in the gutter that only needed to be washed and polished to be as good as new. Having seen the look and heard the words before, he looked at her as if he couldn’t wait to get her home, strip her naked, and give her a bath before having wild, passionate sex with her.

She remembered one such man willing to pay her money for her to wash his recyclables at his kitchen sink while she was topless and while he self-pleasured himself. She even wrote a story about her experience, Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless. Willing to do what he asked of her, he seemed harmless enough and actually was a nice, albeit lonely man. Exposing her big breasts to him, she freely and willingly removed her blouse and her brassiere in exchange for him giving her a wad of money while he masturbated himself. Only, there was no way she was going anywhere with this clown. She’d rather freeze to death on the street than to go anywhere with him.

“You degrade yourself by allowing men to feel your tits while you give them a hand job or a blowjob in exchange for a few dollars,” he said looking down at her D cup breasts before looking up at her.

Oh, here we go. Reverend Kind of the Good Heart Church, a man without a sexual agenda, he’s one of those men who thinks that he can help her by saving her from herself when all he wants is her all to himself. Suddenly, he looked like all of the other men who were only interested in her because she was busty, pretty, and willing to give them what they wanted for money.

“What are you a cop looking to arrest me for prostitution? Maybe you’re a reporter looking for a special interest story. Perhaps you’re a priest out to save fallen women when you’re not in the rectory sexually abusing boys,” she said while giving him a fuck you look.

Instead of looking at him with anger, she looked at him with a knowing look mixed with suspicion. Obviously, she didn’t trust him. Obviously, she didn’t like him. She wished he’d just eat at another table and leave her alone to eat her meal in peace.

“No, I’m not a cop, a reporter, or a priest,” he said. He stopped talking to watch her eat while he ate a French fry. “As my sign of good faith, I’m going to give you a little something with no strings attached,” he said taking a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and sliding it across the table to her.

“Thank you,” she said not wasting any time in taking possession of the ten dollars and putting in her pocket.

Now, after she rids herself of him, she can buy a nail file, some deodorant, and a hot cup of coffee.

“Now that you mentioned it, if you don’t mind me asking—”

Oh, here it comes. Nothing for nothing, she knew what he was going to ask before he even asked the question.

“What? You may ask me anything as long as you don’t mind me not answering,” she said with a little laugh of victory while giving him an attitude filled look.

He stared at her big tits before looking up at her blue eyes.

“I, um, was just curious how much you charge for a feel of your big tits, for a hand job, and/or a blowjob,” he said staring again at the big, bulbous impressions her large breasts made in her shirt in the way that most men do.

Now wishing she hadn’t invited him to sit, with her Valentine’s meal no longer a happy meal but a sad, cold one, even though she was still very hungry, she was no longer enjoying her food. With her having not eaten all day and with him doing his best to ruin her appetite, she was still more interested in eating her lunch than in talking to him. She took another small bite of her burger and washed it down with a sip of her water. She looked up at him as if she was back in the alley. She looked at him as if he was just another man there to give her a few dollars in exchange for sex so that she could buy whatever it is she needed to survive on the street.

“Let’s be clear. I’m not soliciting you for sex. Yet if I was to charge someone for sex, which I never would,” she said lying. “I’d charge them five bucks for a feel of my tits outside of my shirt and bra. I’d charge them ten bucks for a feel of my boobs inside my shirt and under my bra. A buck a minute, I’d charge them ten bucks for a ten minute hand job and more if it takes them longer to cum. I’d charge them twenty dollars for a blowjob but I’d never put just anyone’s cock in my mouth,” she said with the attitude of a thousand dollar call girl instead of a homeless woman.

Now he stared at her with as much sexual excitement as he leered at her with sexual interest.

“May I cum in your mouth?”

In the way he looked at her and in the way he asked if he could cum in her mouth made her skin crawl. Then, when he reached his hand across the table to run his finger across her lips, wanting to bite his finger, she nearly threw his hot coffee in his face. As soon as he touched her in that way, she slapped his hand away. If he tried anything else in this public place, he’d be sorry.

“Fuck you! I wouldn’t blow you never mind allow you to cum in my mouth,” she said with months of pent up anger. “If I was a prostitute and I’m not, I’d charge another twenty bucks for a man to cum in my mouth and another ten if he wanted me to swallow. That’s fifty dollars for a blowjob where he cums in my mouth and I swallow. Yet, for me to blow anyone, I’d have to want to suck their cock. I just don’t fall to my knees for every man I meet holding a twenty dollar bill no matter how tired, cold, and hungry I am.”

Giving her his best smug, sarcastic look, he looked at her with confidence that she was going to give him a blowjob.

“Are you interested in blowing me?”

Already turning her off and not wanting to have any more to do with him, she’s met dozens of men like him.

“No,” she said looking sternly at him before refocusing on eating her food. “I told you that already.”

Suddenly with him obviously not having an appetite for his food in the way that he obviously had an appetite in wanting to have sex with her, and with him no longer eating his food, he stared at her before speaking.

“I have a car,” he said.

He gave her a sexy smile.

“Lucky you,” she said. “I used to have a car but that was lost in a flood along with everything else I owned in this world.”

He made a face as if he didn’t believe her while looking at her with prejudice.

“Lost everything? I don’t hardly believe that,” he said. “How can you lose everything in a flood? It’s just water? As soon as it dries, it’s as good as new.”

Obviously, he’s never been in a flood, a fire, or any type of disaster. Obviously he didn’t understand what it means to lose everything that’s important to you in your life. Obviously tragedy never befell his life and disaster never came knocking at his door. Tired of explaining, she explained yet again.

“I lived in a basement apartment with my mother across from the river that crested 30 feet above flood stage. The water was up to the second story of our apartment building. The police and fire department wouldn’t allow anyone to retrieve their possessions until the water receded and until after the buildings were inspected,” she said falling sad while remembering it as if it all happened yesterday.

“So?” He shrugged his indifference and she wasn’t to reach out her foot and kick in his balls.

“It was three, long, sufferable weeks before we were allowed to get what was salvageable. Yet, with everything we owned sitting in a pool of water that was mixed with home heating oil, mold, and raw sewage, nothing was salvageable,” she said. “Nothing. Ergo my reason for saying that I lost everything in a flood.”

She returned his smile with a stern look. Apparently he wasn’t so special after all. Much like all of the other men she met on the street, he just wanted a feel of her big tits, a tug of his little prick, and/or a suck of his hard cock. With all that she said falling on deaf ears, he didn’t care that she lost everything in a flood and was homeless and living on the street. He only cared about one thing, his sexual appetite.

“We could go somewhere private,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty for you to blow me while I feel your tits and finger your nipples.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Listen Mister, I don’t know you. I don’t get in anyone’s car that I don’t know. You could be Jeffrey Dahmer’s younger brother for all that I know,” she said. “I’m still alive and not in jail today because I’m careful. I’m still alive and not in jail today because I’m not stupid. I’m still alive today and not in jail today because I’m not desperate enough to take off with the likes of you for the promise of fifty dollars.”