Off the Streets

This is my first ever story, so please go easy on me.

I first met Amy during late September of 2005 when here in the UK we were experiencing an Indian summer.

I was going through a bad patch, to put it bluntly. I'd lost my wife Alice and unborn son in a car crash two years previous and following a brief spell of "throw yourself into your work", I was now in the "What's the point" phase of trying to deal with the loss.

I was wealthy, very wealthy. I'd spent nearly twenty years building up a business that had brought us the material life. Big houses, flash cars, we had the best of everything. But now I was living in our town centre apartment 40 miles from London, too emotionally scarred to settle back into the large country house we'd bought together eighteen months before her death.

I was keeping myself busy, but not really taking any particular pursuit seriously. The business ran itself, I turned up most days but did very little other than sign a few letters, nod in agreement through meetings I was taking little notice of and generally did the bare minimum to get through another day in the slow lane of life. I'd lost contact with most of our friends and family following the funeral. I suspect many had trouble dealing with my miserable state of mind. Sometimes I'd go days without eating, getting out of bed for nothing other than the bathroom. A few steps from bed to loo and back again.

It was during one of my brief walks through town, I was daydreaming all the while. Thinking of Alice, how she would look backlit by the sun on a country walk by the river, her flowery dress almost transparent, her blonde hair lifting in the breeze, she held her hands to her small bump of a tummy, smiled that smile "He's kicking" she said.

"Watch out mate" came a voice over my shoulder. I'd stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the street, tears welling in my eyes. I apologised to the man and took in my bearings before setting off again. I noticed a group of homeless people on the far side of the road. Nothing unusual about that, there were quite a few in town, mostly sat drinking high strength lager and smoking home made cigarettes crafted from the left over dog ends swept up from the gutter. But one person caught my eye. A young woman, staring back at me, she some how didn't fit. Yes, she was scruffily dressed, dirty, shabby black hair in a mixture of pony tail and semi fashioned dreadlock plaits. But she wasn't drinking like the others and seemed more aware, awkward even, of her place in these surroundings, as if she knew she didn't fit. As I walked down the road I occasionally glanced over to them and each time she was looking back at me, head cocked slightly, a Mona Lisa smile, familiar but a complete stranger at the same time.

I didn't see her again for a couple of weeks. I was leaving for work when I was greeted with "Spare some change mister?"

I looked down and saw her sat in a doorway of a boarded up shop with another man. He seemed completely out of it, asleep, passed out, who knows, wrapped in a dirty grey blanket.

She was holding a Costa coffee cup with a few pence in it, dressed in jeans and a tatty black sweatshirt that seemed to be a size too small, either that or she had massive tits, I told myself it was probably the former, "Spare some change?" she asked again.

Snapping out of my tit fantasy trance I replied "I'm sorry, I don't have any change"

"A likely tale...Fuckin' wanker" came a guttural voice from below the blanket.

"Shut the fuck up you dick" she barked at the man "Sorry about him. He's an idiot"

"I'll be passing by again this evening, I'll bring you some food if you like" I added.

"We didn't ask for food, we want money you tosser" Came Mr 'Man of many insults' again.

"Shut up" she snapped "Sorry...that would be lovely...thanks" She smiled at me and cocked her head again. I smiled back and set off on my journey.

I half expected the doorway to be empty when I got back, but had stopped by at the supermarket on the way home anyway. I bought a couple of sausage rolls, some fresh bread and some fruit. And just as a side thought, two cans of beer and a packet of ten cigarettes. When I arrived at the doorway they were still there. He hadn't moved, and looked to be asleep. She was squatting in the opposite corner, her head was resting on the door of the boarded up shop behind her and her eyes were closed, she looked like she was enjoying the feel of the late summer sun on her face, maybe she was asleep too. She had removed her sweatshirt, probably due to the heat, to reveal a small strappy sweat stained white top, underneath which was visible a 1 inch wide, lace trimmed, black bra strap. Her knees were tucked up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. My knowledge of women's underwear didn't really extend very far but I did know one thing, the wider the strap, the bigger the boobs. It's basic engineering, spread the load; the bigger the load...well, you get the idea. So although I couldn't tell from the way she was sitting, I was starting to get a mental image of this woman. Slim and stacked with an infectious smile and oozing sex appeal.

I gently put the bag down and started to walk away.

After I got twenty yards or so she called out "Thank you".

I turned to see her dividing the food between the two of them, all except the two cans of beer, which were both given to him. I raised a hand to wave, she smiled back at me, cocking her head again as I turned for home.

Two months went by before I saw her again. I wasn't actively searching her out but I did glance in all the usual places when I passed. December had arrived and I was walking home early one Friday afternoon when I noticed a makeshift sign on the parish church door: "Homeless shelter. Soup kitchen and warmth for the night". I pushed the door open and walked in. I heard a voice bellowing long before the buxom, matronly women even appeared "Our doors will be open from seven. Kindly refrain from loitering in the church during the day...oh... I'm sorry; I thought you were one of our homeless people." She seemed irritated that people should be seeking shelter in the church, or maybe her irritation was with the vicar who had approved the shelter, either way her demeanour lightened when she saw my suit and polished shoes.

"I was just looking to see what you do here" I explained. "Have you been open long?"

"Around eight weeks" she shot back. That explained it. The girl must have been taking shelter here in the evenings. "Not for much longer though. The bishop wants the church as the centre piece for the diocese Christmas celebration. It will take a lot of preparation. The scaffolders arrive on Monday. These people will all have to be gone by then"

"Where will they go?" I enquired.

"From whence they came I should think" she replied coldly, then warmed slightly as she added "I believe most go to London for Christmas anyway, it's warmer there and there are more shelters"

"I see. Do you require any help in the evenings?"

She looked at me suspiciously "We can always do with a pair of hands in the Kitchen. We start cooking at six thirty"

"I'll see you then" I added with a smile and left the church with a warm feeling for once.

That evening I arrived at the church and was met by the vicar. I introduced myself and was shown around the kitchen where a few of the parishioners were busy preparing vegetables in a large pot that would ultimately be the soup. A young man by the name of Tom was to be my partner and between the two of us we set about opening tins of corned beef and baked beans. All through the evening I was continually scanning the door looking for the girl. Around 8pm all the cooking was done and I was helping serve the 30 or so people that had come in. The door opened and I recognised the 'Man of many insults' but he was alone. He didn't recognise me, simply took some soup and a bread roll and sat at a pew by the door, but after a couple of minutes he got up and walked over to the door. Opening it I heard him say something like "Are you coming in or what?" and there she was, exhaling her last lung of smoke she turned and entered the church.

As I handed her some soup, she lifted her head and recognised me. "Oh, it's you. Hello"

"Hi" I replied "Fancy meeting you here" I immediately regretted opening my mouth How clichéd was that?

"Yeah, lame" she said giggling. Did I say that out loud I thought? "You had regret written all over your face even before you'd finished delivering that line" she added with a smile, head cocked in trademark fashion.

"Sorry, I didn't mean...oh you know. Would you like some bread?"

"I never did thank you properly for the food you gave us. I don't drink beer, so gave that to Max; I kept the fags for myself though, don't tell him"

"I don't think 'Max' and I will hit it off to the extent that it will come up in conversation" I replied as we took a seat away from the crowd.

"No, He's a bit weird indeed. I rarely get a word out of him, unless he's suffering withdrawal and trying to get a fix in which case he doesn't shut up, whines on like a baby"

"Is he on drugs? " I asked

"Yeah... of course" she laughed "What do you think? ... I mean, look at him...complete loser"

"Are you?"

"What? Drugs? Oh, God no.... Sorry, I see, yes, many homeless people have drug problems; I smoke tobacco, that's my only real vice... Hopefully I'll get off the streets before I get sucked in to that scene; I've only been down here since the spring. Max was the first person I met"

"So you two are..."

"No" she interjected "We're just friends, we look out for one another. I realised as soon as I hit the streets that I would need some protection, and there's safety in numbers as they say." She looked over towards Max who was now asleep on a pew "Not my type ha-ha... I don't really think he's that interested to be honest, he's in love with the dragon" she added with a wink.

"How come you ended up homeless" I asked

"It's complicated" she replied but I got the impression she didn't want to talk about it, complicated or otherwise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'd better go and wash up" I said

"I'd come and help" she added "but they won't let us in the kitchen...too many knives!"

When we'd finished and I came back out she was lying on the same pew we were chatting on. I noticed a pile of blankets that had been offered to a few of the visitors earlier in the evening and took one over to her. She was asleep. I gently draped the blanket over her, she barely moved, just a slight change in the depth of her breathing. I took my coat and left for home.

When I arrived home I had a renewed vigour. I had suddenly found a purpose. Looking around the flat I had come to realize that there was nothing here I needed. Everything could be replaced tomorrow if needed, without any hardship to me whatsoever. The only things I'd truly valued were the very things I'd lost, people, relationships, the very things that induce a smile and gave a warm feeling.

I spent the weekend shopping for Christmas presents for my family. Although I was still intent on spending the holiday alone I felt it was time to re-enter their lives and what better way to show I'd found my feet than to arrive baring gifts. My intention was to travel up to see them early the following week before returning a few days later on the 23rd.

On the Monday I was due to leave I passed the church and noticed that the workmen had already arrived to start the festive decorating. I saw Tom talking to one of them and when he saw me he wandered over.

"Amy was asking after you on Saturday." He said.

"Amy?" I asked

"That homeless girl you were talking to on Friday night. She asked me to tell you thanks. I assume it was you she was talking about; we didn't know your name."

"Andrew "I said "Sorry, I have a habit of being rather private these days... Andrew Jones" I held out my hand and he took it with a rather limp handshake

"Tom Sanders" he replied. "Anyway, I must be off, I'm travelling down to my mothers in Dorset for the Christmas holidays this evening"

As I walked home and had a quick look in all the usual spots, but no Amy. No homeless people at all from what I could see. I wondered if they were in another shelter somewhere or whether they had indeed left for London as the woman from the church had suggested.

The trip to my parents went smoothly; my sister was there and on good form and everyone got on well. My mother even asked me to stay for Christmas but I made excuses about loose ends at work and the imminent forecast of bad whether and made my retreat after a couple of days.

Arriving home the streets seemed to have a reverberation about them. Sound seemed to travel so freely, I could here trains in the far distance and footsteps along a thin alley a good 200 yards away. My breath rose from my mouth in a plume of steam and I found myself reaching for my buttons to fasten my coat up tighter. Large Orange-grey clouds were forming and I could see the promised blizzard was on it's way. I couldn't help think about Amy and wonder where she was.

As I arrived at my building and put the key into the lobby door, I turned to my left and saw steam or smoke coming from the doorway of the boarded up shop. I looked across the road trying to see a reflection in the department store window. There I saw Amy, huddle down with the same blanket I put over her on Friday. She appeared to be alone.

I rushed upstairs to my apartment and immediately started boiling some milk. I ran to the spare bedroom and pulled out two large soft towels and a dressing gown from the cupboard which I placed on the bed. Returning to the kitchen I poured the milk into to large mugs and added some chocolate powder. Giving the thermostat a prod I notched up the central heating a couple of degrees before picking up the mugs and heading out into the street.

The snow had started and she had buried her head in the blanket "Hi" I said

Amy raised her head, shivering. A smile crept across her pale lips.

"Fancy meeting you here" I said with a smile.

Amy laughed, and then started coughing as the cold air hit her lungs "Still lame" she said with a smile.

"Here" I said offering her the chocolate. She took it and I sat down next to her. "Any plans for Christmas?" I asked cheerfully, taking a sip

"Nah... just thought I'd spend a quiet week at home on the streets" she replied sarcastically, cupping the mug between both her hands and holding it under her nose breathing in the warm steam to get as much of the heat into her as possible.

"Look, I'm spending Christmas alone and I thought...well what I mean to say is...oh bugger..." I stuttered "I mean ...okay. In view of my lame conversation starters so far what have I to lose. Here goes...Would you like to spend Christmas with me?

She was laughing at my useless attempt at getting my point across. "I'd love to" she said, smiling with her head cocked again. "Even though it sound like you're only asking because you have no one else to ask"

"What? No...that's not what I......"

"I'm joking...I'd love to." She said

"Okay...well then...right...let's go then" I said and stood up, offering her my hand.

I helped her to her feet and we gathered up her belongings and trudged off in the newly laying snow.

When we arrived at my apartment she dropped her belongings by the door and nervously entered the flat. I threw my keys on the counter in the kitchen "Do you like Italian food?" I asked.

She nodded "Doesn't everyone?"

"Follow me." I said and led her down towards the spare bedroom. "Dinner will be about an hour. This is the bathroom, there's plenty of hot water so help yourself to anything, Sorry, I didn't mean to be presumptuous"

"No. That's fine...I'd love a bath, it's been weeks since I've been truly clean...thank you... My turn to be presumptuous, Is there any chance I could wash a few clothes?"

"Of course, no problem. The washing machine is in here" I said pointing to the utility room next to the front door. Then I took her into the spare bedroom. Reaching under the bed I pulled out a large tattered trunk, pushing it against the wall "My wife was around your build. I've kept some of her clothes in this trunk, sentimental reasons really. Please, if you want to, there may be something in there that you like." She went over and opened the chest and lifted the lid, I found myself hoping that they hadn't developed a musty smell, not that Amy would be likely to notice.

"In the top drawer there is a load of Alice's electrical stuff," I added, "hair dryer, straighteners, curlers, god knows what. She seemed to have every contraption under the sun. Help yourself."

She opened the drawer and was confronted with a tangle of cables. "When you say help yourself...does that include this?" she said holding up Alice's blue Rabbit dildo

"Oh shit! I exclaimed "Sorry...I err..."

She burst out laughing and put it back in the drawer... "Maybe I'll save that for later " she smirked at me "Thank you ever so much, you're so kind. " She reached for her sweatshirt hem and lifted the baggy garment over her head and for the first time I got a true indication of her stunning body. Her tits were huge, that black bra strap I'd seen the other week was still in evidence, as was the now seriously grubby white top. She caught me staring and I'm sure I blushed.

"I'll go get dinner. Would you like me to run you a bath?"

"Thank you" she said, head cocked, grin across her face.

"There's a load of my wife's beauty regime left in the cupboard too, make-up as well. Probably all gone off by now. Do cosmetics go off?" I realised I was waffling. She just smiled.

15 minutes later I could hear splashing coming from the bathroom. Dinner was cooking nicely and curiosity was getting the better of me. I crept down the corridor to the spare bedroom. There on the bed were her clothes neatly piled. On top was the largest bra I'd ever seen. I picked it up and searched out the label. Very faded, but just legible, 36e. I noticed she'd hung three dresses from the curtain rail and imagined her playing dress up before emerging for dinner in the chosen dress. I wondered which it would be, hoping it would be the white dress with the halter neck. The "FM dress" as Alice liked to call it.

I went back to the kitchen and started laying the table. I opened a bottle of Chianti and put on a KT Tunstall cd. All the while I was pondering the magnificence of Amy's tits. My wife was a 36b but had always said she wanted to be bigger.

"I wish I had larger boobs darling, enormous tits that will mesmerise men. Oh I'd never go under the knife darling, I'll just have to find myself a bad diet that sends fat straight to the puppies" she would say.

I could hear the sound of the washing machine humming through it's cycle in the utility room but that was instantly interrupted by the whoosh of the hairdryer and I realised I was sweating with nervous anticipation. Like a schoolboy on his first date. I was draining pasta when I heard the door open. I was excited but at the same time I didn't want to look, I was trying to prolong the moment. Spooning pasta sauce I heard a voice from behind me, "How do I look?" I turned to see her stood in the doorway. Her hair was a very dark brown, not the black I'd first thought. And was cascading over her shoulder in big ringlets, she had applied make up and had a sultry glamorous look, red lipstick complemented by dark eye-shadow and deep black mascara. She stood wearing the FM dress. A thin cotton long white dress with a deep plunging back and a loose halter top tied in a bow behind the neck. I say loose halter top; that was on my wife, on Amy it was straining to hold those wonderful orbs. She gave me a twirl and I could see that like Alice she was avoiding underwear. The top of the crack of her arse, just visible, a completely bare back and as she turned the swell of the side of her breasts and the erotic sight of erect nipples straining at the material. "I think your wife was a little smaller than me, the underwear didn't fit I'm afraid" she said with a smile.