That Christmas

That Christmas.

Two nights before Christmas Eve, I had walked into town and enjoyed a couple of drinks with a few acquaintances. I had lived in the small Yorkshire market town for a little over a year, since I had sold up my small business and retired. I had retired at a relatively young age, fifty. I had made a good go of my business and when a rival company had offered to buy me out at a price I would never have previously believed possible, I had jumped at the opportunity. I lived alone. Having been married as a young man, my marriage had ended after only a few years, my only child, a son, I saw only occasionally, as he lived several hundred miles away.

It was a bitterly cold night, no snow on the ground as yet, but I had no doubt that it was on the way, as we said. The salvation army were playing Christmas songs as I walked up the high street, the few lampposts were bedecked with fancy lights, and people were greeting each other with best wishes. It was a typical small town scene.

My ten minute walk took me through one of our car parks, attached to our one and only small supermarket on the outskirts of town and used by one and all, whether using the shop or not. As I was about to leave the car park I noticed a shape, huddled next to the air conditioning units at the back of the shop. It was obviously a person, and he or she had not been there when I had passed through earlier that evening.

To this day I don't know what made me approach that person, maybe a Christmas spirit, who knows?

As I got close to that huddled shape it shifted a little and a face looked up at me. It was a girl, or should I say young woman, cold and shivering she looked lost and forlorn. I had come across a few homeless people in my time, and although I did occasionally buy their magazines, or simply donated a few pounds to them, I had rarely felt a great deal of pity, seeing them using drugs and smoking as well as being obviously drunk. I always figured that if they could afford to do that, they could do better for themselves.

This young woman however looked different, she looked genuine.

"Are you ok love?" She stared at me for a few seconds, no doubt thinking that I was asking a stupid question!

"Just cold, can't get warm."

I looked down at her and came to a decision that would have shocked me at any other time.

"Have you got somewhere to go? I have a spare room if you want it for a few days, a warm fire and plenty of food. It's Christmas, and you shouldn't be out here in this weather."

She looked up at me with a knowing look on her face and smirked. "I don't think so, thanks anyway!"

I wasn't stupid, I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking.

"It's OK, I know what you're thinking, but I promise, no cost to you, of any sort, no strings. I can sort out a lock on the bedroom door if you want as well."

She didn't look convinced, and I couldn't blame her. When I thought about it, it was a stupid idea anyway. I turned away and made to leave. Then the heavens opened, hailstones the size of marbles hammered down and the temperature dropped even lower. I only got about half a dozen steps away from the young woman when she called that she was coming.

Five minutes later, after we got to my little bungalow I got my first real look at this homeless young lady. Red haired, pale faced, and very petite in size, she was tiny, barely five feet tall, soaking wet and very bedraggled.

"I'll find you something else to wear while your clothes dry, you can use the shower if you like and I'll do some food."

I went into my bedroom and found my spare bathrobe and a pair of shorts and a teeshirt. I showed her the bathroom and the spare bedroom, handed her the clothing and left her while I went to fix up something to eat.

Fifteen minutes or so later I had a plate of toasted sandwiches on the coffee table in front of my blazing log burner and a completely different young woman joined me. Cleaned up and with a careful looking smile on her face she joined me in my living room and sat in the chair opposite. I looked over at this young woman and simply couldn't believe that I had found her sleeping rough on the streets. She was pretty, not vogue magazine beautiful, but very very pretty.

Wrapped in my bathrobe which seemed to go around her at least twice she looked tiny, skinny, almost emaciated. The smile on her face was forced, she was frightened, and I couldn't blame her.

I poured us both a cup of tea and indicated the sandwiches. As we ate we talked. Lisa was twenty three years old, though she looked a lot younger, she was married, but had ended up on the streets after running away from an abusive relationship in which her husband of three years had started to repeatedly beat her. How could that happen? How could anyone mistreat this lovely young woman, it was beyond my comprehension. She had been on the streets for a little under a year, when I asked if she had any other family she could have turned to she clammed up, tight, obviously she didn't want to talk about that.

After we had eaten and finished drinking our teas I brought out a bottle of wine. Lisa looked rather apprehensive, the bottle wasn't full, in fact there was only sufficient for a small glass each, nevertheless, I didn't push her to take some, and she seemed to relax.

I on the other hand was not relaxed. What exactly had I gotten myself into? I had taken a young lady off the street, taken her to my home and was now sat in front of the fire with her, she was dressed only in my bathrobe, I was in a dangerous position should she decide to make trouble for me.

The story she gave me of her life on the streets was hard to take, she had begged her way up and down the country, explaining that she did what she had to do to survive. She had had friends, but they had drifted apart as she had drifted into depression. She had ended up in our car park after getting a lift in the delivery truck, after which she had no plans except to hopefully get a lift off the next truck. Where to? She neither knew nor cared.

After a mug of hot chocolate she went to her room. I heard her pull a chair across the bedroom floor and place it inside the door, that was ok.

I really didn't sleep well that night. I brought anything I thought was easily stolen and worth anything into my room, and then had a fretful night tossing and turning, imagining all the dreadful scenarios that I might wake to the following morning.

I needn't have worried, when I woke next morning it was to the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon. Lisa was up and about and sorting breakfast. When I joined her in the kitchen I saw that she was dressed in just a fraction of the clothing she had been wearing when I first saw her the previous evening. Devoid of several of her layers she looked even smaller than she had in my bathrobe, with the small exception that she now appeared to have a rather healthy looking bust.

As we ate the very good breakfast that she had prepared I asked if she wanted to stay a few more days and spend Christmas with me? I thought at first that she was going to refuse, she seemed to take a long time to answer, but eventually she said that she would, and asked why I would want her to?

That was the question, why did I want her to stay? It was then that I realized the reason. I had to admit to myself that I was lonely, and despite my seemingly charitable actions they were actually quite selfish.

I decided to tell the truth, at least as I saw it.

"I'm on my own, I'm feeling lonely, it's cold out, and I couldn't stand to see a lovely young woman like yourself curled up in a corner freezing to death. I've booked Christmas dinner at the hotel in the high street, I'll see if I can add you to the booking, if not I'll sort something else out, buy a turkey and the veg."

"You'd do that for me? You really don't even know me."

"Do I really need to? I woke up this morning to find you cooking breakfast, you hadn't disappeared and taken my belongings with you, so as far as I'm concerned you're ok. Besides, you're pretty, I'm kind of old and lonely and I like your company."

She looked at me in a pensive sort of way and replied.

"I'd love to stay a little while, and I really appreciate what you're saying, but these are the only clothes I have, and I would only embarrass you going to dinner in these, so if you really want me to have Christmas dinner with you we'd better just stay here."

To be quite honest I didn't really want to stay at home for that dinner, so I told her to leave it with me and I'd see what I could do. I had an idea, but I didn't want to spring it on her quite then.

I told her to make herself at home while I had a quick walk into town. Was I an over trusting fool? I'd soon find out.

I walked into the high street and went into the hotel where I intended to have my Christmas dinner. I was in luck, they had had a cancellation so were happy to include Lisa in my booking. Next I walked up and down the street, checking out the very few shops which sold clothes. There were the now common charity shops, and just two others, both of which specialized in 'country wear', the sort of high end stuff land owners and wannabes paid well over the odds for. On the way home I called at the ATM, collected some cash and shrugged off the cost to my bank account.

There was coffee waiting for me when I got home, so she still hadn't absconded with any of my worldly possessions.

When I sat her down and handed her enough money to take her pick from any of the shops, she reacted by crying, not a blazing howling or anything, just a few tears down her cheeks and a few quiet sobs.

"I promise you won't regret giving me this, I swear it, I'll make you proud, and I'll make it up to you."

I told her that she didn't need to think about that. I realized that to her I had probably given her a lot of money, but in reality it wasn't much, a few hundred pounds. To me, very little, to her a fortune.

I walked her to the high street where I left her to do her shopping and went to the pub.

I sat in a window seat with my pint of dark brown beer and observed the goings on outside. I saw Lisa several times going in and out of shops, charity shops, the more expensive clothiers, our tiny pharmacy, just about every shop in the street. Amongst all the other girls and women milling around, Lisa seemed to somehow stand out, she was noticeable. She was certainly the most shabbily dressed, but her happy pretty face just seemed to glow, she definitely had an aura about her.

An acquaintance of mine came and sat down. "Looking at the new shopaholic in town?"

Ours is a small town, Lisa was bound to be noticed!

"A young friend of mine, down on her luck at the moment, staying a few days."

"Oh? Known her long?"

There was no way I was telling him the truth, so I replied "A little while!"

He didn't need to know how 'little' that while was.

We had another drink each then I noticed Lisa outside looking around. She had at least half a dozen very large bags! Time to leave, I didn't want her coming in and being questioned before I could brief her as to my explanation of her appearance in town.

Back in my bungalow Lisa showed me some of her purchases, not all by any means, a lady has to keep some things to herself after all. She did explain that she had bought a small amount of cosmetics, after all she said, I was taking her to a posh hotel for Christmas dinner! I wouldn't have described it as posh, but I knew what she meant. Then she handed me at least a third of the money I had given her back. I hadn't expected that, some of the items she had bought were expensive, from the country clothing stores, and they were just the things I'd seen! It was bad of me, but I decided, probably subconsciously, to test her honesty. I counted the money while her back was turned and left it out, where it was easily seen. Would she take any of it? I hoped not.

Lisa disappeared for the next couple of hours, she was alternately in her bedroom with my rather disreputable sewing kit, or in the utility room using the washing machine and dryer.

We had both just grabbed a sandwich for lunch and I was debating what to do for our evening meal when Lisa literally waltzed into the room.

I had to look twice. "Bloody hell Lisa, you clean up well, you look amazing!"

"Your charity shops are amazing, most of the stuff in them has never been worn, the locals here must have more money than sense!"

She was quite right, the local charity shops were well known for it, people came from miles around just to browse them.

She was wearing a very becoming blouse and skirt, if, as she was suggesting, she had picked them up from one of our three charity shops, she'd done very well indeed, and she looked gorgeous in them, they (now?) fitted perfectly.

"Have you altered those clothes?"

"Yeah, I have to alter most things, I'm only four foot ten, even petite sizes are too long for me, I'm used to it."

"Well, with you looking as good as you do, I think we should eat out, I want to show you off, my beautiful young friend!"

Despite her objections I dragged her back out into the high street and we went into the hotel where we would be having Christmas dinner. It was a simple pub style meal, but once again Lisa shone, it was obvious to me that Lisa's background was far from shabby, she was an enigma, she was cultured, she was lovely, she was practical, but I had found her on the streets. And then there was her quiet admission that she had done whatever she needed to do to survive. What exactly did she mean by that?

We had shared a bottle of wine with our meal, but when we got back home I opened another. Lisa didn't hesitate this time and as we enjoyed our wine she opened up a little more than previously. She showed very little restraint as she explained her husband's habit of beating her. It had started as consensual spanking, she said that she had quite liked being put over his knees and spanked! But it had quickly turned more brutal, first a leather belt, then a cane. When she objected he used fists, then his feet on her body then face. She had been to the emergency department on at least half a dozen occasions with cracked bones and finally damage to her internal organs, including her uterus. The consequences of that was a partial hysterectomy, she would never have children. Her husband threw her out. After that admission Lisa clammed up again, there was obviously more to her story, but I wasn't going to push, I was sure she'd tell me in her own good time.

That night when she went to bed I didn't hear a chair being put up against the door.

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve, and frankly I felt that all was well with the world. Once again I was treated to the smell of a cooked breakfast being prepared by my little house guest.

I decided that as this was Christmas Eve I'd do something special, that is, we'd do something special! I live in a small Yorkshire market town, so the obvious thing (to my mind) was to take a trip to the most beautiful city in the country, York!

As we sat and ate breakfast I explained my plan. Lisa seemed excited by the idea, she had never been to York and so never experienced the hustle and bustle of the Christmas market there. I noticed as we chatted that her whole demeanour was very much more relaxed than previously, she had obviously already showered and so although she was still wrapped in my bathrobe, I could see she wasn't wearing anything beneath it, a fact that she was making no effort to hide.

Our drive to York was uneventful, taking a little over two hours. During the drive I could see Lisa's excitement growing, something that I found rather odd for a woman of her age. We talked of course, although seemingly about nothing as to this day I don't remember a word of what we talked about.

York was exactly as I had expected. The market was bustling, having taken over the whole of the main shopping street as well as it's usual square. Lisa was delirious, and finally admitted that this was her first experience of any real Christmas festivities. At the obvious look of puzzlement on my face she explained that she had been raised, and then married in a church denomination that didn't celebrate Christmas in any way. That was also the reason that she had no family to turn to in her troubles, her family firmly believed that as a good wife she should accept her lot, even if it meant being badly beaten by her husband, it was her duty to accept whatever he demanded of her. I could barely believe it, just what sort of life had she been living? I couldn't understand any of it.

We had a wonderful day, Lisa was like a little child, wondering at all the stalls, enjoying the atmosphere, soaking it all up. I had wanted to treat us to a nice lunch in a famous cafe, but the queues were prohibitive so we ate from the hot food stalls on the market, it was a good day.

On the way home we talked about her upbringing, and compared it to the way I had been raised. Christmas had been a very special time of year for my family. Trips on Santa special steam trains, visits to Christmas markets, both in the UK and Europe, midnight mass, even though we weren't in any way particularly religious. It was all part of the atmosphere of Christmas. Lisa had been brought up to totally ignore the whole thing, it saddened me. What saddened me even more was some of the things Lisa admitted to doing to get by since living in the streets. She had had to prostitute herself on more than one occasion, although she said it was mostly the use of her hand and mouth.

We ate our evening meal at home, shared a bottle of wine and watched some tv before walking into town for another first for Lisa, midnight mass.

I was having a shower after returning home when my bathroom door opened and Lisa walked in. She was naked. I just stared at her as she opened the shower cubicle door and came in with me. She was beautiful, her body only slight, somewhat under nourished I thought, but very nicely proportioned, her breasts perfect. She didn't speak, just put some shower gel in her hands and started to soap my whole body.

I felt my penis start to react, it had been a long time since it had been in the hands of anyone except myself, and that night it did me proud. In Lisa's hands I was soon massively erect, and she took full advantage of that fact. She stroked and rubbed, massaged and then kissed my throbbing cock. I looked down in amazement as she kneeled on the shower cubicle floor and started kissing and then sucking my balls. She licked and kissed her way up my ever hardening cock, then, after treating my cock head as a lollipop, she took me deep into her mouth.

As my cock was firmly sucked into her hot mouth she gently caressed my balls, it had been so long since I'd had any form of sex I felt I was about to explode, even if this had lasted only a minute or two so far. Lisa's mouth withdrew from my rigid member and she began to kiss and lick my cock head.

"You don't have to do this you know."

She looked up at me, the biggest smile I'd ever seen on her face.

"Yes I do, I want to, you've been so good to me, I need to be good to you in return. Besides, I really really want to do this!"

She was so good at this, she'd take me deep in her mouth, then I'd hit the back of her throat and I'd withdraw a little before being sucked in again. Then she would withdraw completely and give me the licking and kissing treatment, before taking me back in her mouth. Lisa must have done this six or seven times before suddenly pushing herself forward, my cock sliding past the back of her throat and sliding even further in!

I'd read about this so-called 'deep throating' but had never really imagined that it was real. But here I was, with my seven inch rigid cock all the way down this lovely young lady's throat!