It’s Possible to Be a Bad Samaritan

This is a story about a widower, who becomes a good Samaritan, but struggles with his demons as a result. It's relatively short, but takes place over many years.

It's possible to be a bad Samaritan, right?

As Brooke stood before me, I knew I was fucked. I was a widower and 50, whilst she was an 18-year-old girl about to perform a striptease for me.

My mind flashed back to our first meeting.

It had been 7 years previously, and I'd just been walking down the street. A saw a young girl sitting on the street and she'd obviously been crying.

"You OK?" I asked, and she snapped her head around and glared at me.

"Fuck off, mister."

I held my hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to help."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's the right thing to do."

I took in the vehicle she sat next to and saw it was overloaded with clothes and household stuff.

"Let me guess, you just lost your home?"

She looked at me and then at the car.

"Yeah, our cock sucking landlord kicked us out." For her age, the kid sure had a tongue on her. "My mom is trying to get a loan or advance on her wages, but you can hear how that's working out."

I glanced at the diner behind us and saw a woman in her late twenties arguing with the manager. She wore a waitress uniform and would have been pretty, but having a kid this girl's age had aged her beyond her years.

There was swearing inside and a lot of arms waving before she stormed out.

"He fucking fired me." She saw me near the kid. "Are you bothering my daughter?" she said aggressively and approached me.

Which would have been comical, as she was easily a foot shorter than me.

"Not at all ma'am." I replied and stepped back further with my hands up.

"Leave it mom, he's just another asshole."

"Hey!" I objected, and the kid snapped back.

"So prove it."

I thought for a moment and then did something stupid.

"You know the Taylor place about 2 miles outside of town?" I asked the woman.

She nodded. "The place in the woods. Kinda creepy?"

"Yeah, sort of. Anyway, that's my place."

"So?"

"So, when I bought the land and built the house, I had a trailer to live in."

"And?" the woman asked, looking at her watch as if I was taking too long.

"And it's still there. From the looks of it, you have nowhere to go and no job. You're welcome to use it for as long as it takes to get yourself sorted out."

"And what's it going to cost me?" She stuck her hip out and folded her arms under her bust. Seemingly to draw my attention to them.

I got the instant impression that she was used to men wanting only one thing from her.

"Not a cent. Not until you get back on your feet. Then we can talk." She gave me a look as if she didn't believe me.

"And why would you do that for strangers? Why would I trust you around my daughter?"

I let out a sigh. "My wife died 2 years ago of cancer. It took a long time. But she was always one for helping people. I've grown up kids of my own and I couldn't turn my back on someone I can help. It costs me next to nothing to do this. You know where the place is, use it or not, it makes no difference to me. But I know it will be better than sleeping in that car."

The mother still gave me a look of distrust, but the daughter jumped up and hugged her mother. I walked away and got in my car and drove off. A little annoyed at myself for getting involved.

I'd always been a private person and with my wife's passing, I'd been slipping back into keeping myself to myself. She'd been the outgoing one. The one who wanted to host large parties and be surrounded by people.

I'd gone along because I loved her and built a large house with a giant living room to host parties. But we rarely had people over. Her cancer and treatments had left her weakened and we couldn't risk her getting sick.

I swore at myself and wiped a tear from my eye, annoyed how my feelings could creep up and ambush me. Then let out a sigh as I imagined my wife looking down on me and saying that helping the pair was the right thing to do.

At home, I parked up and walked the 50 yards from my place to the trailer. It stood close to the road, and I remembered my kids growing up and using it for sleepovers and such. Inside it smelled musty, and I opened all the doors and windows to air it out. Then removed the bedding and dumped it outside. I'd wash it later.

As I did that, I recognised the car pulling up, and the kid jumped out excitedly. The mother was less so, but I detected a hint of hope on her face. But also wariness, like someone used to disappointment.

"It's only small, but it's serviceable. It still has power and water."

The kid rushed inside and exclaimed in glee. I saw her through a window bounce on one of the beds.

"What's her name?" I asked her mother.

"She's Brooke and I'm Mary."

"Tom." I replied and offered my hand.

"Is this for real? You're not trying to pull anything?"

"Nope. Get yourself sorted and we'll talk about rent. In cash." I added with emphasis. "And handed her the keys to her new 'castle'.

In truth, I expected them to be there for just a few weeks. Mary had another waitressing job within the week, and we negotiated a rent that was a fraction of regular apartment rents. As we agreed on it, I had the sinking feeling that I'd just put a millstone around my neck. There was little chance they'd move on if they could live here so cheaply.

I discovered Mary liked to drink, and I was worried about Brooke, but it wasn't my place to get involved. I tried to collect the rent from her when she was sober, as when drunk, she hinted she'd be prepared to pay in kind. When she said it, I ignored the comment and tried to ignore the amount of cleavage she displayed.

A guy in his forties still has a man's needs and with my wife's illness, it had been a long time since I'd been with a woman. But I certainly wasn't going down that route. It felt like it was only one step away from using a hooker.

Despite her filthy language, Brooke turned out to be a sweet kid most of the time. As she grew older, she and Mary would argue and I'd often found her stomping through the woods, swearing about how unfair life was. On those occasions, I'd give her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head. Telling her things get better.

Mary seemed to struggle to keep down a job, but would usually find another without too much delay.

I remember one stormy night; I was sitting up, just watching the flames in the fire. There was a thumping on the front door. I opened it to see Brooke, wet from the rain and looking scared. It turned out that Mary was out on a date and she'd left Brooke alone, and afraid of the storm.

I took her in, wrapped her in a warm blanket and went off to make us hot chocolate. When I returned, she was curled up on the rug in front of the fire, asleep. In the morning, Mary came frantically knocking on my door and saying that Brooke was missing. When Brooke ran through from the kitchen, Mary eyed me with suspicion. But Brooke put paid to that and laid a heavy guilt trip on her mother. The pair left, and things went back to normal.

When Brooke was 14, she got into trouble at school and was suspended for a week. Her mother was furious, less for what Brooke had done, but that Brooke would be lying around the trailer for a week. As Brooke wasn't very scholastic, in Mary's mind, that sounded like a reward instead of a punishment.

I suggested Brooke should use the time to clean my house from top to bottom. That way, I could keep my eye on her and make sure she wasn't up to mischief. That earned me a pouty teenage scowl from Brooke, but Mary liked the idea. And once Brooke discovered that I'd wired a sound system that allowed her to play her music loud in any room of the house. The cleaning became less of a chore.

My home office was up under the room and reasonably well insulated against the music. But the sound reminded me of when I'd first moved in here with my wife. We'd play our music loud and run around the house naked. Christening each room and stick of furniture be copulated in or on it. She'd been so young and beautiful. I shed a tear and swore about some fictitious pollen that had gotten to my eye.

When I went downstairs for a drink, Brooke instantly turned down the music and apologised. Then asked what was wrong. I explained how the music had reminded me of my wife. But once I started talking, I didn't seem able to stop. I'd not talked about my wife to anyone since her death, and the words kept pouring from my mouth.

How we'd met and fallen in love. The fun times together and our kids. When I got to her illness, I shed more tears and stopped. Brooke hugged me and told me it would get better. I laughed at the phrase I'd used on her so many times and pulled myself together.

At the end of the week, I was impressed that Brooke had worked so hard. I kept the house tidy, but my cleaning was rather cursory. Some rooms in the house I'd hardly ever go into, so the dust had accumulated. With it gone, I finally noticed it.

A few weeks later, Brooke came to me asking a favour. In return for her doing some cleaning for me, she wanted to use my living room. She'd started learning yoga with her friends and needed space to practise. The trailer was too small to do it, so I agreed. I gave her a key on the strict understanding that she didn't let her mother know about it.

Mary hadn't given up on the idea of bedding me. Hoping I'd turn into some sort of sugar daddy, I thought. And I wouldn't put it past her for me to come home to discover her naked in my bed. That sort of temptation I didn't want to test my willpower on. Since we'd met, she'd gained weight around her belly, but she was still attractive.

I built a hot tub in the woods about 50 yards uphill from my place and you heated the water with a wood-burning stove. Which meant you had to decide a good 6 hours before you want to use it to light the fire. I'd fitted an array of solar panels to charge batteries that ran the lights and the jets. You could get 15 minutes from the jets before the power gave out. Enough time for me, but Mary and Brooke pleaded to be allowed to use it as well.

I agreed on certain provisos. They had to do their share of ferrying the wood for the fire from the log store at the back of the house. And that they don't use all the power for the jets. Brooke certainly fulfilled the first condition, as I'd see her running up and down the low steps to the tub dozens of times with logs in her arms.

The second proviso they seemed incapable of understanding. Because they preferred the water hotter than me, they would use it first, then tamp down the fire and I'd use it later. Often I'd get 30 seconds of jets before it cut out. Rather than having an argument about it, I fitted more solar cells and batteries.

What I'd not considered, and I should have, was the hot tub gave Mary extra opportunities to tempt me. The steps to the tub went from my back door and my bedroom window overlooked them. You couldn't quite see up to the tub, but you could see most of the steps. Mary would often be seen wearing a skimpy bikini to and from the tub.

I'd be lying if I said I'd not thought of sampling her body, but I held back. I think I did it because of Brooke as much as anything. There was no way Mary or I would become an item. And I didn't want it to be awkward for Brooke to feel stuck in the middle if Mary and I fell out.

Of course, time marched on. More than once, I was confronted with Brooke or Brooke and several friends doing yoga in my lounge. Having teenage girls contorting in skin tight clothing around the house put a strain on my celibacy. I got the impression a couple of her friends sensed that and played it up for me.

Not long after Brooke's sixteenth birthday, Mary came knocking on my door late at night. Naturally, she'd been drinking and was extremely worried that Brooke was hours past her curfew on a date. I was surprised to hear she was dating, but I should have guessed.

She'd blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her dark hair just touched her shoulders, and she stood several inches taller than her mother. I chided myself for having noticed, but her bust was a little larger than her mother's, as well. Hardly surprising, a young man would pay attention.

Mary had been trying to phone Brooke, but she wasn't answering. So she was worried. I grabbed my keys and told her to go and wait at the trailer, in case Brooke came home. She could call me to stop me driving all over town all night.

However, I found Brooke about 1/2 a mile from home limping along the side of the road in the dark. She looked so relieved to see me and gratefully climbed into my car. Her now ex-boyfriend had been a jerk and dumped her in the middle of nowhere. Her phone's battery died after she used the torch on the back to get home.

I pointed out that if she'd called me, I could have got her, and she swore under her breath as she realised. There was alcohol on her breath and I hoped she'd not turn out like her mother.

It was impossible not to hear the argument between mother and daughter as I went into the house.

A short time later, Brooke walked into the house and asked if I had any ice. Her ankle was worse than she thought. I wrapped the ice in a cloth and applied it to her ankle. Trying not to notice how short her skirt was. I made her our usual hot chocolates and asked what had happened.

She snuggled up to me on the sofa and stared into the fire before answering.

"We were on a date and he was being a jerk. He demanded that I suck him off."

I stiffened and felt very awkward.

"I know I told you that you could talk to me about anything, but that might be a little much."

"What, I'd have done it if he'd not been such a tool about it. It's not like I've not done it before."

"Brooke!" I said, and she twisted around to look at me.

"Come on, did you think I was a virgin? I mean, looking like I do, and having a mother like mine."

"Excuse me?"

"Come off it, you have to know that mom has slept with half the guys who give her a job."

I'd heard rumours, but was surprised that Brooke had heard them.

"Guys, add 2 and 2 together and assure I'm easy. I'm not, but neither am I frigid. I like a dick in my hand and other places."

"Please, Brooke. I don't want to hear this."

"What, you don't want to think about a dick in my pussy or up my ass?"

I jumped up, and she overbalanced. Then she looked up, surprised, as I glowered at her. In all the time I'd known her, I'd never raised my voice to her. That night was the closest I'd come.

"I'm not your father, so I've no say in what you do. But this is my house and I won't have you talking like that around me. I'm going to bed, so you can let yourself out."

I stormed off angrily and was shaking when I got to my room. I wasn't entirely sure why I was so angry. Perhaps it was her casual attitude to sex at her age. Or the realisation that she'd grown up, and I still thought of her as if she was like when we'd first met. Part of it was my self-imposed celibacy, but I had to be honest and admit that I didn't want to think of her having sex.

Things changed subtly between us that night. Oh, the next day she came around to apologise for being out of line, but the innocence between us was tainted. Just knowing she was having sex made her a sexual being.

Since she'd started cleaning for me regularly, she'd been helping herself to my washing machine. I'd gotten used to seeing her and her mom's clothes on the washing line. Now I was noticing her underwear hanging there.

I noticed when she and her mom would head to the hot tub in bikinis. Fortunately, by then Mary was dating her boss, a used car salesman, and had stopped trying to flirt with me. But just because I thought about Brooke, I carefully avoided thinking about her in that way. Which wasn't easy.

When Brooke turned 18 and graduated High School, she went to a party afterward, but called me about 10 pm. She was wasted and needed me to come and get her. Her mom would have been drunk by that time of night and she was spending more nights with her boyfriend than in the trailer.

Brooke was drunk, and it was hard not to notice how much skin her party clothes showed off as she climbed into my car. She babbled about every little detail of her day and the party. Telling me gossip about people I wouldn't know. I dropped her off at the trailer and headed home. Pouring myself whisky and drinking it.

About 1/2 an hour later, I remembered that I'd planned on using the hot tub. Changing into my trunks, I grabbed a towel headed up the steps to the tub. As I got close, suddenly the lights and jets came on.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me like that." Brooke said.

"Me too." I replied, then turned to go.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I thought I'd leave you to it. I can come back later."

"Don't be silly. There's enough space for you as well."

Saying I felt uncomfortable with her in just a bikini would invite teasing or worse, so I man'd up and stepped into the tub. The water was a little too hot for me, but I could wait 5 minutes and say I'd had enough.

She sat with her eyes closed and her head tilted up to the sky. I'd sited the tub in a clearing that gave a wonderful view of the night sky. Brooke slipped lower into the water to submerge her shoulder, then sat back up. She was wearing a hot pink bikini, and I saw how it hugged the upper portions of her breasts.

I looked up to see her looking at me and felt I was busted.

"How are you feeling?" I asked to divert her attention.

"I drank like a gallon of water and took some painkillers, but I'm still pretty drunk. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I replied and tilted my head back to look at the stars.

"You know I'm not going to university, right?" I nodded.

Brooke had never been academic and was pragmatic enough to realise that getting massive student debts was not a good idea.

"Well, I've been thinking about what sort of job to go for. The other day, a guy came up to me to offer me a job as a dancer." I looked over and frowned. "At Flannigan's." She added.

"A stripper?" I exclaimed.

"No, an exotic dancer. And it's only topless, not all the way."

My base mind betrayed me by flashing up the image of Brooke pole dancing in the club. My libido woke up, as I tried to push it away, and be the honest sounding board I'd cultivated over the years. I'd not tried to be a father figure, but an honest broker to talk about her issues.

"Is that what you want?"

"Not really. But the money is great, and it's only at night, so I could take a class or two at the community college during the day."

"And you're ok with going topless?"

"Sure." She lifted up until her breasts were out of the water. "I mean, guys have been staring at these pretty much since I got them." She ran her hand over her breasts and I couldn't help noticing her hard nipples pressing through the cloth.

"As mom says, if you have the body for it, why not use it? I might as well make some money off them rather than have guys drooling over me and imagining what they look like."

"I guess." I replied and looked away. My trunks were starting to tent, and hoped the jets didn't cut out yet.

"I've not made my mind up yet. In addition to performing on stage, I'd have to do lap dances in the bar and some private VIP room dancing."

"You know what that sort of dancing is..."

"Fully nude, yeah, I know." It wasn't what I was going to say. I knew a guy who went there regularly and got a hand job or a blow job from the dancers. "Plus, I'd have to audition."

I was distracted, and it took me a moment to recall what she'd said.

"With all that yoga, that shouldn't be a problem." I said, and Brooke grinned.

"True, I'm stupidly flexible and that's something my boyfriend's love about me."