Author's note: This is my first venture into the Celebrities and Fan Fiction category, so please be kind in your comments. I wrote this tale several years ago to capture what pleasures an act of random kindness can bring. Based on actual events of the time and plausible possibilities, this fantasy is offered for your reading enjoyment. The standard disclaimer about everyone being of age and fictitious apply. Please enjoy.
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It was during an unusual torrential early summer downpour that I came upon her in my beat-up pickup truck. She was such an odd figure of despair, walking down that lonely country road, six-feet of drenched femininity, that I was compelled to pull along side of her and stop.
"Miss, are you all right?" At first, she didn't respond at first, but then finally turned to look at me in a silent uncomprehending manner. "Do you need a ride?" When she didn't answer or react, I swung the passenger door open and said, "Come on, get in. If anything, it'll give you a chance to get out of the rain and cold. Come on, I won't hurt you. Trust me."
She took a while but finally got in without a glance or a word and closed the truck door. Soaked to the bone, it wasn't until she unconsciously pushed her sopping-wet long dark hair from her face that I realized who she was. Given how often her beautiful nineteen-year-old face had graced the front page of some many sports publications, who wouldn't have recognized this attractive golf prodigy of Asian descent whose last name I won't have to mention?
"Hi, my name is Mick," I said in an effort to prompt a conversation. My female passenger, however, just sat there numbly staring at the road ahead, oblivious of how her thin wet top clung to her curvaceous breasts and her drench jeans were plastered to her long shapely legs. Something told me to hold my peace and without being asked, I reached behind seat to pull out an old blanket that I used when occasionally I pull a long haul and needed some desperate sleep. After draping over her shivering form, I started the engine and cranked up my decrepit heater.
Only the sound of the windshield wipers slapping methodically could be heard. As the road passed, I recalled how my sullen passenger had had a tumultuous childhood with pushy and overprotective parents. Naturally gifted and stunningly attractive, she was widely proclaimed as the "female Tiger Woods." Unfortunately, her promise failed to materialize as envisioned and her ardent supporters became her harshest critics. The last tournament that I recalled she was leading only to lose it when her competitor made an amazing series of birdies in the last set of holes. It was simply amazing how her utterly emotionally crushed picture was plastered across the sports page.
"I'm heading back to my place in the foothills, but if you'd like, I can detour to one of the towns along the way." Her head slowly turned my way as if she finally heard me and after a blank look, just kind of shrugged in a noncommittal manner. After nothing else came, I finally said, "Look, do you have any place to go – anyone to turn to?" She just looked down and turned away, but not before a tear ran down her wet cheek.
I tossed things around in my head and before I knew it I was quietly muttering, "Hey, I know you don't know me from Adam. I'm not some kind of scumbag, and if you want, I'll pull over and let you out. But, I've got a small spare room if you need a place to stay. It ain't much and kind of primitive by most people standards, but its clean and yours with no strings attached."
"Why?" was the first word I heard her softly utter.
I thought about it for a moment and then quietly said, "I believed that what goes around comes around. It may sound corny and it may sound religious, but you look like you could use a helping hand right now. You look like you need some time to yourself to sort things out and get your head together. That is if you want to – but if you don't, that's okay. I won't take it personal..."
The pregnant pause was almost unbearable but after a while I heard her say, "Thanks, 'because I really don't have anywhere to go."
"Well, what can I call you?" I asked, hinting that I knew her actual identity but left it to her to reveal. She looked at me and then shrugged vaguely. "Okay – since I'm Mick and sometimes called 'Mickey' by my Irish friends, I'll call you – 'Minnie" – since you look right now like a drowned mouse. She absently chuckled at the strange name that I had chosen and asked if she wasn't a bit too big to be a Minny. But I stuck to my guns and said laughingly that it was "Minnie and Mickey." Finally, she gave up and said that her name was "Michelle."
My place wasn't much. Nestled in the gentle curve of a forested hill, it consisted of two buildings: the main house and a small converted barn which served as garage, workshop, and storeroom. The house was a small single-story wooden structure consisting of a living room-kitchen, two bedrooms one of which was used as a storeroom, and a bathroom. While I had running water and indoor plumbing, it was basic at best. A small propane tank powered a simple stove, a small refrigerator, and water heater. But the one thing that really made my place downright primitive was the total absence of electricity and the usual electronics. Oil lamps, candles, and a large wooden fireplace which I found gave my cabin a surreal cozy feeling.
However, when we first entered that night, it was nothing more than a cold dark cave. "My apologies," I hastily stammered as I quickly lit the lamps and candles, "it's normally just me without too many guests. I wouldn't blame you," I said as I went about lighting the kindling in the fireplace, "if you want me to drive you to the closest town about an hour from here. I know the motel owner and I'm sure that she'd be willing to open up."
As the room was washed in warm glow, Michelle just shook her head and asked if she could take a shower. I quickly agreed but then realized that she had no spare clothes. Fortunately, I'm a slender six-three and was able to come up with a clean set of woolen socks, a thin flannel shirt, and an old sweat pants with a draw sting. Michelle looked dubious as I handed the stack to her.
"Hey, I know that they'll be large on you and aren't really fashionable, but they're clean and dry. However, if you don't want to use them, you could prance around the cabin wrapped in a bath towel – I really wouldn't mind terribly." Michelle chuckled softly at my innuendo and headed to the bathroom.
Even without makeup and clad in overly large clothes, Michelle was a natural teenage beauty with the glow of the firelight highlighting her delicate Asian features. She has a certain grace and suppleness, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that my heart didn't skip a beat at the noticeable quiver of her braless breasts under her shirt. I think, however, what made Michelle compellingly enticing was that she was a strange blend of polished professional maturity and clueless youthful innocence.
We ate a simple supper before the fireplace. I know she was expecting me to pump her with a myriad of questions but when I didn't, she ended up asking about the cabin and then about me. I had bought my cabin as a country get-away, but now it was my retreat and salvation. When Michelle looked at me and asked me to explain more.
After a sigh of acquiescence, I explained that I had always been handy with my hands and especially when it came to metal. My simple creations suddenly went from personal expressions to pieces of art that were in high demand and demanding high prices. Although I became filthy rich along the way, I somehow lost the enjoyment in life. I found myself embroiled in the rat race of satisfying other people's expectations to the point where I lost it. One day I found myself severely depressed, packed it up, and came here. Now what I do, I do for myself, and the hell with everyone else.
When I looked at Michelle, tears were streaming down those lovely cheeks of hers. "God," she sobbed, "I thought I was the only one..." Slowly but surely bits and pieces of her life came tumbling forth: domineering and controlling parents; a puppet-like existence; no childhood; no boyfriends; no dates; missed her senior prom and graduation; paraded before sponsors; endless promotions and endorsements; super high expectations; and followed by failure and constant criticism. Confronted with her breaking point where, Michelle just one day couldn't take any more, caught a bus, and then walked and walked until I happened along and picked her up.
Michelle folded into my shoulder, sobbing heavily, and I held her until she came up for air. "Well," I said with a lazy drawl, "I'll send you my bill later, but for now you can stay as long as you want, provided you do you share." Then gesturing to the surround room, I couldn't help but say, "This ain't a hotel with room service."
To this Michelle laughed, gave me a small smile, and graciously accepted my offer. As she hugged me and as those firm spongy tits pressed into me, I knew I made the right choice in stopping and extending myself.
The following day we headed into the closest town about an hour away. For one thing, I had insisted that she call her parents. There was no telephone in my place and cell phones didn't work in my neighborhood. If anything, I wanted her to let them know that she was okay and would return soon. I didn't want a good deed morphing into kidnapping charges. Fortunately, the call was kept brief and sparse on information especially when her parents demanded that she return immediately.
On a more practical note, I had a load of clothes that needed to be washed at the local laundromat and my food supply was dismally low given now that I had two mouths to feed. It also didn't hurt to visit the bank so that I could lend Michelle some spending money so that she could purchase some necessities at the town's only country store. While she was able to buy package of panties and various feminine hygiene products, Michelle couldn't find any bras in her size or to her liking (which delighted me) and finally settled on some form-fitting undershirts to help constrain her youthful modest boobs.
