Wilhelmina, (Billie) Ch. 01

(All participants in this story are 21, or older, and consenting adults.)

She was so much younger than I.

It was obscene.

If I had daughters, she would be younger than them.

We met at the library. Not a place you expect to see young people her age. I know what you are thinking. That I am some kind of old pervert. Well, I am not. We began to speak about a common interest, literature. She just asked one day where she could find such and such a book. Molière is not someone most folks know about. But I took the time to help her out. Subsequent meetings over the next few months had us discussing Shakespeare, Dickens, and many others. Also, not topics and authors young people know and discuss. She knew all of these.

About her. She was a little wisp of a thing. Brown hair, on the skinny side. The things I noticed. Her clothes seemed old and worn out, and occasionally dirty. This told me she did not have much. Sometimes, her hair needed to be washed. She wore long sleeve shirts in the summer. I found this odd. It was some time before I learned her name.

She introduced herself as Billie. Her full name was Wilhelmina. I would go with Billie too. I figured she came here to escape. Her outside life or to find other things to escape to. Books will do that for you.

I did not see her for some weeks. The library was my escape, just as I suspected it was for Billie. My evening was occupied with whatever selection from the library and some cool jazz in the background. Some may find this boring. I found it relaxing and without drama. There had been enough drama with my ex-wife, or as I like to refer to her, Queen Bitch of the Universe. So, as you may imagine, a book and jazz are much better.

I was in the stacks one day, perusing the works of Charles Bukowski. Not every day reading for most. I was lost in thought.

A voice said.

"Hey Mr. Kay."

It was Billie. I turned and smiled at her.

"What book is that?" She asked.

So, I launched into a brief history of Mr. Bukowski. Billie seemed interested, so I handed her a couple of the books. It was at this moment I noticed scars on her hands. I began to wonder about her history. Still, she wore a long sleeve shirt. Billie did not know me really at all. I thought it best to not push and ask too many questions. We headed to the counter with our selections. Then we would go our separate ways.

"Hey Mr. Kay." She asked.

"Are you doing anything right now?"

This caught me off-guard. Not so much the question, but the tone or her voice. It was almost pleading.

I spoke.

"No Billie. I am not doing anything. Would you like to go to a Café down the street?"

She looked panicked.

"My treat." I added.

Then Billie seemed relieved. I surmised money was a problem.

The Café was a nice accessible area. Quiet, yet public. I did not wish to be accused of anything inappropriate. As we stood in line to make our order, Billie's eyes scanned the pastry counter. Her eyes grew larger and larger. It was a look of hunger. Not the "I didn't eat breakfast" type. More the "I haven't had a good meal in a while" look. My heart went out to her. I have been there myself, long, long ago.

"Order whatever you like." I spoke.

I smiled and meant it. Of course, she was conservative. It became apparent that someone had tried to raise her properly. Billie ordered hot chocolate and a large chocolate muffin. I quickly decided to order several items. A sandwich, a muffin, a large bowl of soup, and my double espresso. I had no intention of eating all of this. But I thought Billie might.

We sat at an out of the way table. Billie devoured her muffin quickly and most of her hot chocolate was gone. She stole a quick glance at my brimming plate and bowl. I said nothing, but quietly pushed my food items across the table. Billie hesitated. I just nodded my head yes.

She did eat a little slower. I asked the server for another hot chocolate and a large milk. This girl was hungry. I made no comment. It would have been rude and unnecessary. Billie was more relaxed now. Food will do that. I did not ask any questions. She will tell me if she wishes.

Our discussion of Bukowski returned. I suggested she read some and we could discuss it in a few days. I made up my mind then to offer her food. Billie left the Café. I sat for a time to ponder all this. It was not my desire to pry into Billie's life. My gut told me something was very wrong. Discretion would be required. All I could do now was wait and be prepared.

A couple of days passed. Billie appeared at the library. She seemed apprehensive to me and that she had been weeping. The long sleeve shirt is now covering her hands. Billie tried to appear upbeat and cheerful. I saw it differently.

"Is everything okay Billie?" I inquired.

Tentatively, she said.

"Yeah."

I then added.

"Billie. I can see that you are upset. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Billie's eyes dropped to look at the floor and she whispered.

"I'm really hungry Mr. Kay."

I knew that I must do something immediately.

"I see." I answered. "Come with me please."

Billie dutifully followed me out of the library and down the street. It was not a full-blown restaurant, but more than fast food.

I asked Billie to order whatever and as much as she liked. Yes, I know. There was a distinct possibility I was being taken. But you cannot know for certain. I had decided to error on the side of generosity. Billie scanned the menu. Her eyes were confused.

"Would you like me to choose something for you?" I asked.

She just nodded yes.

Chicken, most folks like chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy. Hmmm. There should be some sort of vegetable.

"What would you like to drink Billie?" I queried.

"Milk." Was all she whispered.

I ordered two meals, the same. The milk came first, and Billie sucked it down quickly. A second was ordered.

While waiting for the food to arrive, I inquired.

"Billie, when did you eat last?"

She cast her look down before answering.

"Last time you fed me."

It had been three days since the Café. I was astonished and appalled. Just then, the food was served. Billie attempted to show some restraint, but hunger took over. I was silent and let her eat. Watching Billie eat took me back to my own life. A time when I was hungry and had little or nothing. It is sad. I pushed my food around just in case Billie wanted it. To take home or eat now. She ate all hers and mine. A ravenous young lady.

"I have to go now." she said softly. "Thanks for dinner Mr. Kay."

I answered.

"Glad to help Ms. Billie."

Then she disappeared. I paid the bill and was glad to do so. I took my time walking home. I had much to consider.

Without knowing the situation, it was easy for my imagination to run amok. Billie seemed an intelligent girl. What had she gotten herself into? I reminded myself. She knew little of me, other than our shared interest in literature and that I gave her food. A degree of trust will have to develop. And was just a meal ticket? So what? Intuition told me I would see Billie sooner than later.

She was not present at the library. The Café held my interest for a time. Billie knew I was going there. A few double espressos later, I opted for home. A little yard work needs to be done. Cutting the grass and trimming around things. Not much time was involved, and I did not hurry. I showered, dressed, and sat to relax with a volume of Bukowski. Shades of orange filled my living room at dusk. I never tire of watching this. Cool jazz in the background. A peaceful evening. Then, the doorbell rang, followed by excessive pounding.

Very seldom does anyone come to my door. The occasional Jehovah's Witness, Mormon missionaries, rogue salesperson, and neighborhood kid with a fundraiser. (I always buy from the kids.) I figured it was a neighbor that needed something and was in a great hurry. The door opened to a bruised and bleeding Billie. The first thing was to get her inside. A quick glance to see if anyone was about. I pulled Billie to the kitchen and looked at her in the light. Blood dripped from her nose, a very fat swollen lip, bruised face, torn clothes, and disheveled hair. Someone had done a number on her. Billie was very frightened and nervous.

A cold washrag first to clean her face. I would better be able to see the damage. I want to tell you she looked better once her face was cleaned. It was not so. Billie's bottom lip was badly split, and blood still oozed. Both cheeks were turning dark with bruises. Poor kid. I fashioned some ice packs for her face. I got her something to drink and some over the counter pain meds. I led her out to the living room sofa to recline. The ice packs were making her cold, so a blanket was in order. Billie was startled at every sound. I began to wonder if she had been followed. I checked to be sure the 9mm was handy. Billie finally fell into a fitful sleep. I removed the ice and kept a quiet watch.

Billie had said not one word since coming here. I was not going to ask. She needed help, which is all. A few hours later she stirred.

"How about something to eat?" I asked.

Billie just nodded yes.

"Soup, okay?"

Another nod yes.

I arose and went to the kitchen. Billie followed me. Not willing to be alone. Heating soup is easy.

"Something to drink?" I continued.

Another nod yes. I knew she liked milk. The items were placed on the table. Eating caused her some discomfort. I thought soup would be easiest.

Once she was finished, I suggested she might like to clean up.

She spoke for the first time.

"I don't have anything to wear Mr. Kay."

I frowned for a moment.

"Do not worry Billie. We will find something." I assured her.

I went to my bedroom and produced an idea. Billie followed me again.

"Let us see. "I said. "Sweatpants, t-shirt and a sweatshirt work for you?"

She tried to smile, but it hurt her face.

I continued. "How about a shower?"

Another nod yes. I got towels, washrag, shampoo, and soap for her. Billie took the armload and entered the bathroom.

Just before she closed the door, she stopped and turned to ask.

"You'll stay right outside the door?"

Now it was me that nodded yes.

I dragged a chair to the door and sat to wait. I could hear the water running. Billie took an exceptionally long time. The water stopped. Ten minutes after, she emerged. Clad in baggy sweatpants, baggy t-shirt, and toweled head. She looked refreshed but still beat to hell. I went to the spare bedroom to make up a bed. Billie followed. Clean sheets, blankets and pillows ready for her.

Billie spoke.

"Mr. Kay. I need a comb or brush for my hair. Do you have one?"

I retrieved a brush for her. Billie sat in the living room and brushed her hair out.

I then asked. "Are you tired Billie? Would you like to get some sleep?"

She nodded yes. I got up and made the rounds of the house to be certain all was secure. Billie followed me the entire time. I managed to get Billie to stay in the spare room while I prepared for bed. The 9mm on the nightstand. I turned the light off and darkness surrounded me. Sleep escaped me for some time.

That night the doorknob to my bedroom turned and the door opened. I was on instant alert. It was Billie. Arms filled with blankets and pillows. She said nothing but crawled on top of my bed to cover up and close her eyes. Mind you, she did not get under my sheets. Billie was scared. She sighed heavily and seemed to relax. The setup made me a little uncomfortable. Billie was sleeping now.

I experienced an interesting thing as I woke up. There was someone in my bed with me. A long time since that last occurred. My ex-wife, (Queen Bitch of the Universe) had divorced me some years ago. She was like sleeping with a cactus. You got stabbed every time you moved. Billie had moved closer in the night. She was next to me now. I needed two things. To relieve myself and then coffee.

Stealthily, I moved from the bed to tiptoe to the bathroom. One down, one to go.

I opened the bathroom door to find Billie standing there.

"I have to go too." She said, and then added. "Wait for me?"

So, I did. Billie emerged blanket wrapped. We went to the kitchen, and she watched as I prepared the Moka pot. Soon it bubbled and steamed. We had coffee. I saw that Billie put a little sugar in hers.

"How about some breakfast?" I said aloud.

Billie smiled broadly and nodded. I first shredded potatoes for hash browns. Once those were going, the bacon was started. Then lastly, the eggs. In between, more coffee.

A thought occurred to me.

"Billie, where are your clothes from yesterday?"

After a sip of coffee, she answered.

"On the floor in the bathroom."

I spoke.

"Good. Let us get them and put them in the wash."

She hopped up but stopped at the door.

"Are you coming with me?" Still frightened.

Billie picked up her dirty things. We walked to the utility room.

I began.

"Put them in."

One pair of badly faded and dirty jeans, a dingy T-shirt, torn over shirt, dirty bra, and panties.

"Put in the detergent. Turn the knob to normal and press start." I instructed.

"Okay, let's go back to the kitchen."

Billie followed.

Hash browns browning, bacon baconing, eggs scrambling. All nicely moving along. As I dished out the food to plates, Billie's eye grew large.

"Orange juice?" I asked.

"Yes." She spoke.

Billie was talking more. I knew she would need fluids to help rinse the damage from her body and heal. Billie ate well and then helped me to clean the kitchen. The washer finished its cycle. Billie's things went into the dryer.

"Billie, you are going to need more clothes. Do you have other things? I asked.

Her face grew dark and gritted teeth, she said.

"I'm not going back to that fucking place."

I responded quickly.

"No one will make you. Would you please write down your sizes? I will shop for you."

Billie now looked panicked.

"You're going to leave me?"

"Yes." I spoke. "But only for a little while. Then I will come back. If you want, I can ask the neighbors to come over. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins are genuinely nice people."

Billie looked skeptical.

"Billie, you need clothes. I do not want you going out all bruised. We should have called the police last night."

"NO POLICE!" Billie said.

"Okay to the neighbors."

I gave them a quick call to explain the situation. Bless their hearts, they came right over.

I got out of the car and hurried off to shop for Billie. Yes, it felt a little weird, but I used to shop for my ex. So, no worries. All the items were found and taken to the counter for check out. The lady gave me an odd look.

I noticed the wedding ring on her finger. I speak.

"And you never sent your husband out for shit?"

She rang it all up and bagged it. It was all plain looking to me. Billie was tickled to have new clothes. A couple pairs of jeans, a weeks' worth of underwear, a couple of bras, a weeks' worth of t-shirts, and same number of socks. I also picked her up a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. I hope this gets her through until she can do her own shopping.

The neighbors returned home. It was just me and Billie. We sat in the living room after her packages were opened.

Billie says.

"You want to know what happened. Okay, well here it is. I moved here with my boyfriend, Jack. We rented a cheap place and looked for work. Jack found a shitty job that did not pay much. As time went on, Jack started to drink increasingly. We ran out of food, but he went on drinking. He had come home drunk as Hell. Sometimes he beat the shit out of me. I did not have anywhere else to go. I started going to the library as an escape from that shithole. I met you and you were nice to me. Then you gave me food. I told Jack this and it made him pissed. He left, got drunk, came home, and did a good beating on me. I could not stay because I was afraid. I had followed you home once to see where you lived. So, after Jack beat me, I came here. Are you mad I did that?"

I thought, wow, what a story.

Then I answered.

"No Billie, I am not angry with you. It is an impossible situation. You needed to leave. I am glad you felt safe enough to come here. However, we should call the police. Jack will just do it again to you or somebody else."

Her response was loud and clear.

"NO POLICE! Are you gonna kick me out now?"

Weeping followed. I wanted to reassure her.

"Billie, I am not going to kick you out. I am just concerned for your safety. You can stay here until we figure this out."

Billie thinks for a minute and adds.

"I will clean your house for free. And.......... could you teach me to cook?"

"Deal" I said.

Before I knew it, Billie was out of her seat and hugging me.

The days passed. Billie stayed inside until healed. I took care of any shopping. Billie began to try her hand at cooking. Nothing too bizarre to start with. As the days progressed, she seemed to thrive now. She still slept above the covers on my bed, awake at any sound. Clearly some fear remained. And in the morning, Billie had moved closer to me in the bed. I admit, I liked her nearby. The cuts healed. The bruises faded. I suggested that we go shopping. Some clothing more to her style. Makeup perhaps? Billie voiced some concern about being seen. She was afraid word might get back to Jack. I assured her everything would be okay. Caution would also be a part of the day. My permit is to carry a concealed weapon and a 9mm.

It turned into a very pleasant day. It was nice to see her happy and smiling.

Some drawers and closet space had been made for Billie's clothing. She needed to feel as though she had something and someplace. Billie had been true to her word. She cleaned the house, and it was always spotless. A much better job than I would have done. We made trips to the library and continued to check out and read books. This occurred mostly in the evening. It was pleasant. Billie made herself more at home as time passed. She began to sleep in a t-shirt and underwear.

It did not seem to bother her if I saw her this way. It did as I would see nipples protruding through her shirts. Obviously, she wore no bra. Billie would sit and not have pants on. I would notice what was called a "camel toe." Or parading from the bathroom to the spare room in just a towel that was arranged so it barely covered her. I found myself wondering what she would look like without any clothes. But then I would chastise myself for being a dirty old man. She could not feel that way.

The weather began to turn cooler. Billie found an old jean jacket of mine. Something I have not worn in years. She asked if she could have it. Of course, she can. Colder temperatures meant a change in cooking. Stews, soups, and chili become desired meals. Comfort food if you will. Thus far Billie had been a willing student in the kitchen. New challenges for her. I have always enjoyed the Fall. Crisp air, changing leaves and the scent of things. Apple cider, mulled wines, hot tea, and hot chocolate. Little did I understand how these changes would cause a noticeably enormous difference in my life.

The heat had not yet been turned on. The house was cool, and I liked it that way. Perfect for flannel shirts. Billie was sitting in a chair one evening reading. It was obvious she was cold. I was going to toss an Afghan blanket in her direction. I never got the opportunity. As I held it up, Billie immediately came over to the sofa and crawled under it. And next to me.

"Wow Mr. Kay. You are warm. Can I stay here?" She commented.

This made me nervous. But I said yes. Nothing happened and Billie snuggled in. My ex would have never done this. She was a cold Bitch. Billie was warming up and leaning into me. I could smell the scent of her shampoo. Did Billie know what she was doing to me?

The hour grew late, and I was tired. We went to our respective bedrooms and prepared for bed. Billie had tried to sleep in the spare room on many occasions. The length of time she remained there depended on her level of fright. I made certain she was in her bed. I went to mine. It was a little cool in the house. Another blanket was in order. Soon, I slept.