*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
Chapter 1
Rayne Woodley shivered as the bitter November rain fell. The lid on the dumpster was open, propped up against the brick wall and she hunkered down underneath that lid, trying to get some shelter. But the brutal wind whistled between dumpster and building, chilling the already soaked girl to the bone.
"Why, God?" she silently asked.
There was no answer; she hadn't expected one.
Just last summer, was it last summer? Was it two summers ago?
It had been blazing hot, she remembered that. The air conditioning in the apartment she and Derek lived in was groaning and rattling, but still the air in the small apartment was hot. The landlord had come out, checked the unit, lingered his eyes on Rayne for a moment too long, and then promised he'd get a guy out to fix it.
The heat only heightened the arguing between Derek and Rayne. She didn't know what he was so unhappy about, why he was so nervous, so jumpy. The television set blared some sporting event that Rayne did not care about, that Derek was not watching.
She opened the refrigerator and saw that there were only two beers left. Before she could even reach for one, Derek snapped at her, telling her to leave the beers alone.
In an effort to appease him, Rayne had gone into the bedroom, stripped off the nylon running shorts and half shirt, then rolled on her fishnet stockings.
"What? Really?" Derek had snarled at her when she sauntered back out into the living room, nude except for stockings. "Fucking sweating my ass off here and you want to fuck?"
With a slap to her face, he was gone.
Rayne sobbed as she slowly rolled the stockings down and off, then dressed again in her sweaty shorts and half shirt.
Rayne Woodley was pretty; she knew she was pretty. She had long strawberry blonde hair that reached to the back of her calves, pale complexion with just a few freckles across her button nose, pouting lips and large doe eyes of warm brown.
Her chest, which she hated, was a stunning thirty four DD, with large pink areolae and fat nipples. Her waist was a tiny twenty three inches, and her hips flared out to thirty five inches.
If men weren't commenting on her large breasts, they were commenting on her rear end.
At only five feet tall, she knew she didn't have the legs that men seemed to like, but as she often said, her legs did reach the ground.
She'd met Derek Bowden at school; he'd been a few years ahead of her, and even though it was deemed 'cool' for the seniors of John F. Kennedy High School in Stepping Stone to taunt the incoming freshmen class, Derek had smiled and offered to show the girl around the small high school.
"So, where you from?" he'd asked her. "I mean, shit if I don't know every mother fucker in Turning Point and Stepping Stone, but I know I've never seen you."
"Me and my brother just moved here from Holly Bridge," she said. "My momma's the new English teacher here."
"Holly Bridge? Where's that?" he asked.
"Mississippi," she laughed, peering up into his handsome face.
Derek Bowden graduated and had actually gone on to college, the University of Louisiana at Monroe, up north in Monroe, Louisiana. But he kept in touch with the girl and even drove down to be her date for the Homecoming Prom.
When Derek had let Rayne know he couldn't hack life as a college student, she'd encouraged him to pursue his other passion, automobile mechanics.
Allison Woodley discovered, far too late, that she had ovarian cancer. A month before Julian, Rayne's older brother was set to graduate, Allison breathed her last.
Allison Woodley had been a slut in her younger years. She had fallen head over heels in lust with John Woodley, Julian's father and had happily married the twenty nine year old man. But Rebecca Boudreaux, Allison's best friend and maid of honor later told Allison that she and John had snuck off during the reception and now Rebecca was pregnant with John Woodley's baby.
Since John saw no reason to be exclusive, Allison also saw no reason to be exclusive. Even while pregnant with Julian, Allison fucked any cock she could.
John was, however, a very jealous man. As soon as he discovered that his wife had not been the sweet, doting wife he'd expected, he slapped her around, then filed for divorce on the grounds of infidelity.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rebecca Boudreaux said when Allison's lawyer asked the nineteen year old girl to testify against John Woodley.
A month after the divorce, Rebecca married John.
In an immature effort to incite jealousy, Allison continued to fuck around. But when she gave birth to Rayne, the attractive twenty year old woman saw that she had one toddler, and one infant, and no one to care for them; her parents having disowned her when she started running around with that 'snake in the grass John Woodley.'
So, she went to school, obtained a teaching certificate, and did her best to raise Julian and Rayne on her own.
A faulty space heater killed Rebecca and John and Jonathon Jr.
So, when they lay Allison Sue Morvant Woodley to rest in a small cemetery in East Turn, Louisiana, Julian and Rayne were truly alone in the world.
The foster home was neither good, nor bad. It was a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs.
Then from graduation, Julian enlisted in the Air Force and left.
And upon her own graduation, the foster home did tell Rayne they were no longer responsible for her.
"But uh, hey, good luck," Mrs. Pennington mumbled.
Derek drove down and gathered the girl and her few worldly possessions. Rayne sent her brother a post card, letting him know where she was now living and set about setting up house with Derek.
Their first night together had been beautiful to Rayne. Derek knew that she was a virgin and gently held her, then kissed and touched her, kissing and touching and rubbing every square inch of her body.
Oral sex had been very pleasant. She had not orgasmed; Derek seemed to not know what a clitoris was, or how to find it. But she had still enjoyed it.
The slight stab of pain when Derek entered her had soon been replaced with a bubbly warmth that enveloped her whole body. She had not orgasmed from the intercourse, but Rayne had enjoyed it all the same.
But only a few months into their living together, Rayne was questioning why she had come. They fought constantly, nothing she did seemed to please Derek, and even though he worked as a mechanic, they never seemed to have any money.
Now, she sat on the cheap vinyl couch, waiting for Derek to return. She did not change the channel from the boring sports program; Derek had slapped her the last time she'd messed with his precious television.
With one final grinding clank, the air conditioning died. Rayne used the cheap cell phone Derek had grudgingly bought for her and left a message on the landlord's office number.
Opening the windows of the apartment only let in the humid air, so after a few moments, Rayne again slid the windows shut.
Suddenly, the door to the apartment burst open and Rayne did not have time to scream as three burly African-American men walked in, carrying a bloodied Derek between them.
"Your man owes us a couple of Cs," one of the men sneered, showing a few gold teeth.
"Honey, please," Derek blubbered, blood oozing from his split lip.
