"Will You Be My Valetine Day Date?"

"Susan," she said. "Sit," she said. "I'm sorry but I'm not used to strangers being nice to me. Actually, I'm not used to anyone being nice to me unless they want something from me, usually a feel of my big tits, a hand job, and/or a blowjob," she said chowing down on her French fries.

Oh, my God, she couldn't believe she said that to a stranger, a man she didn't even know. Where's her manners? Where's her discretion? Where's her common decency? Sorry she said that, she couldn't believe she blurted out that bit of personal, private, and despicable bit of information but, with her not talking to hardly anyone in months, she was nervous.

Unaccustomed to talking to people, other than to yell her anger at them, always keeping to herself, she hadn't talked to anyone socially in a long while. When on the street, as if a big cat on the prowl, she walks with her head down and her eyes fixed straight ahead. Never wanting to be a victim, always walking with a purpose while watching out for danger, she captures as much information in her peripheral vision as she does looking straight ahead. Yet, a dangerous place to be, when walking through an isolated alley, she needs eyes in the back of her head.

After being shunned by her appearance, going on the offensive and always ready to attack before being attacked, slowly but surely she was turning into an animal, a junkyard dog. Immediately recognizing his look, he looked at her with a kind face before giving her a sexually excited look. The change in his facial expression would have been startling had she not seen it many times before. Having grown accustomed to men approaching her with small acts of kindness before wanting to use and abuse her for sex in exchange for money, giving men what they want allows her to buy what she needs. Obviously, with her unfortunately already opening that door by disclosing to him what she does to earn money, no doubt, he was thinking about feeling her big tits while she gave him a hand job before she gave him a blowjob.

"Well, I can assure you that I didn't say hi to you because I wanted a feel of your big tits," he said staring at her big tits. "I didn't stop by your table because I wanted a hand job," he said with a little nervous laugh and a wave of his disinterested hand as if the thought was absurd. "I didn't stop by your table because I wanted a blowjob," he said while staring at her mouth.

Only knowing his kind, she knew better. She knew the real reason why he stopped by her table and it wasn't to wish her a Happy Valentine's Day.

"I see," she said.

Waiting for him to hang himself by showing his true colors, she knew it would only be a minute or two longer before he'd be unable to continue this ridiculous ruse.

"Being that it's Valentine's Day, I didn't want to eat alone and when I saw you eating alone, I was hoping to join you," he said obviously lying.

He smiled at her again while taking a bite of his burger. She stared at the ketchup, mustard, and special sauce collecting around his mouth as if she'd wanted to trade her flat burger for his Big Mac. As if she was a starving dog, she'd give him a kiss if it meant that she could lick the ketchup, mustard, and special sauce from his mouth.

"When there are so very many other women eating here alone," she said looking around the restaurant at so many people young and old sitting alone before looking at him with suspicion. "Why me? What makes me so special?"

He waited until he was finished chewing before speaking. He wiped his mouth and took a sip of his water. Certainly, by the look of him, he looked like he had a few dollars. By the look of him, he had enough etiquette to dine in a finer restaurant instead of eating fast food at McDonalds. In the way that she's been known to fly off the handle lately, he didn't lose his manners just because of who he was with and/or where he was dining.

"Why not you is the question you should ask yourself? I don't know. I saw something in your eyes. I felt your pain," he said putting a hand to his chest, bowing his head, and closing his eyes as if pretending that he really could feel her anguish when she knew he couldn't and didn't.

"Oh," she said.

If he was an actor playing a part in a movie, he wouldn't win an Oscar. He opened his eyes to look up at her. Instead of giving her a look of sincerity, he gave her a lecherous look. Right there, she knew he was full of shit. Right there, she knew he was like every other man who wanted her for sex.

"Besides, with your long, blonde, beautiful hair and big, blue eyes, I couldn't help but notice that you're very pretty."

With men not usually complimenting her but usually sexually using and abusing her instead, her cheeks blushed to show her embarrassment by his unsolicited, albeit backhanded compliment. Even though she knew he was full of crap, his compliment still tugged at her heart. This was Valentine's Day after all and, just as she was hungry for food, she was hungry for love and affection too.

"Wow, I can't believe it, a real gentleman," she said with an undercurrent of cynicism. "In a world of horny men looking for what they can feel for free, you may be the first man who doesn't want to feel my big tits," she said. She looked down at her breasts while sticking out her chest before looking up at him staring at her tits. "You may be the first man who doesn't want a hand job," she said moving her hand back and forth as if she was giving him a hand job. "You may be the first man who doesn't want a blowjob," she said moving her hand back and forth in front of her mouth while pushing her cheek out with her tongue.

After having already gone down this road of seemingly mandatory, homeless prostitution before, she felt a little more comfortable teasing him and tempting him to trick him into revealing his true self. With her already recognizing him as the wolf in sheep's clothing, a man who'd never give her something for nothing, he gave her a shit eating grin. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who'd want to feel her big tits. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who'd love for her to give him a hand job. Obviously, indeed, he was such a man who'd love for her to give him a blowjob. Only, there was something about him that she didn't like. There was something about him that was not right. There was something about him that put her on alert.

"I'm not asking anything of you other than to sit with you while enjoying our impromptu Valentine's Day lunch," he said smiling while pretending that was his only reason for him stopping by her table.

"Okay," she said not believing him.

They remained sitting in silence for a minute without talking and before he showed the real reason why he asked if he could join her for lunch. Revealing his true self to her, he took advantage of her good nature by suddenly talking dirty to her. All it took for her to get him going was for her to talk dirty to him first. Yet, if he was truly a gentleman, he wouldn't have fallen into her little trap in the way that he obviously did.

"Yet, if I was dating you and was lucky enough to be intimate with you, that's not to say that I'd never want to feel your big tits," he said pausing to stare at her big tits. "That's not to say that I wouldn't like for you to give me a hand job and/or even a blowjob," he said looking at her mouth as if he was already imagining her giving him a blowjob while he felt her big tits and fingered her nipples. "That's not to say that I wouldn't want to make sweet, romantic love to you before pounding your pussy and before fucking your ass."

Another crass asshole, she took a sip of her water while having second thoughts about accepting his apple pie and inviting him to sit with her. With her nervously eating, he didn't touch his meal again after that first bite of his burger and a sip of his water. His coffee untouched, still had the lid on it. She'd do anything, almost anything, within reason, for a hot cup of black coffee. Evidentially, in the way he was staring at her, he was more interested in her than he was in his food. Perhaps he bought his lunch as just his pretense to sit at her table while dining with her.

"Generally with most men animals of the swine variety, I don't come across very many gentleman," she said now having serious doubts about him being a gentleman.

If he was anything, having met plenty of his kind before, he was nothing more than a mean and nasty pervert.

"I can assure you that my intentions are honorable," he said.

Some gentleman he is. It was truly unbelievable that he can even say that he's a gentleman and that his intentions are honorable after admitting that he'd love to pound her pussy before fucking her in her ass. Perhaps his definition of gentleman is much different than her definition of a gentleman. Perhaps, as long as he utters please before forcing his cock in her mouth and saying thank you after he cums in her mouth, he considers that as gentlemanly behavior.

"The last three men I had the displeasure of meeting beat me and tried to rape me in the back alley when I was picking up enough bottles and cans to cash in enough deposits to buy myself breakfast the next day," she said. "If it wasn't for a retired Marine, a gunnery sergeant, who beat the crap out of them, I may have been just another homeless woman in the morgue and just another police blotter statistic."

Suddenly, thinking about Dave and where he is now, she looked sad. Her story to tell, maybe one day she'll finish writing about her experiences. Having already written ten chapters, she already had a good title for the story, Bag Lady and the Retired Marine.

"So, what happened to your retired Marine?"

She looked at him as if he was Dave or someone looking to take the place of Dave as her new personal protector and savior.

"It's a long, sad story that you really don't want to know and I'm really not in the mood to tell it," she said. "That's just another unfinished chapter in my life."

Suddenly she fell quiet while eating her food. Suddenly with all of her defenses up, she seemed distant and detached. Suddenly, she looked at him as if he wasn't even there and she was back to eating alone. Suddenly and seemingly, he stared across the table at her in the way that a psychiatrist would stare when analyzing a patient.

"Is that what you do?"

Afraid to ask the question, she looked at him with hesitancy suppressing her curiosity. He remained staring at her in silence while watching her eat. Then, she relented and asked him what he meant.

"Pardon? What do you mean, is that what I do? Do what? What is it that you think that I do?"

He doesn't know her. He has no idea who she is. All he sees is her blonde hair, her big, blue eyes, her pretty face, and her big tits. That's his extent of seeing who she is. Unable to see the woman beyond the outside package, he's like every other man who takes an interest in her mostly because she's weak, vulnerable, susceptible, and homeless. How dare he try and hide behind his kindness when all he wants to do is to use her for his own personal, sexual satisfaction?

He looked at her with a mixture of interest, pity, and sudden sexual excitement all combined in one leering stare. Obviously seeing who she once was through her disheveled appearance, he looked at her as if she was something valuable that he found in the gutter that only needed to be washed and polished to be as good as new. Having seen the look and heard the words before, he looked at her as if he couldn't wait to get her home, strip her naked, and give her a bath before having wild, passionate sex with her.

She remembered one such man willing to pay her money for her to wash his recyclables at his kitchen sink while she was topless and while he self-pleasured himself. She even wrote a story about her experience, Cleaning Cans and Bottles Topless. Willing to do what he asked of her, he seemed harmless enough and actually was a nice, albeit lonely man. Exposing her big breasts to him, she freely and willingly removed her blouse and her brassiere in exchange for him giving her a wad of money while he masturbated himself. Only, there was no way she was going anywhere with this clown. She'd rather freeze to death on the street than to go anywhere with him.

"You degrade yourself by allowing men to feel your tits while you give them a hand job or a blowjob in exchange for a few dollars," he said looking down at her D cup breasts before looking up at her.

Oh, here we go. Reverend Kind of the Good Heart Church, a man without a sexual agenda, he's one of those men who thinks that he can help her by saving her from herself when all he wants is her all to himself. Suddenly, he looked like all of the other men who were only interested in her because she was busty, pretty, and willing to give them what they wanted for money.

"What are you a cop looking to arrest me for prostitution? Maybe you're a reporter looking for a special interest story. Perhaps you're a priest out to save fallen women when you're not in the rectory sexually abusing boys," she said while giving him a fuck you look.

Instead of looking at him with anger, she looked at him with a knowing look mixed with suspicion. Obviously, she didn't trust him. Obviously, she didn't like him. She wished he'd just eat at another table and leave her alone to eat her meal in peace.

"No, I'm not a cop, a reporter, or a priest," he said. He stopped talking to watch her eat while he ate a French fry. "As my sign of good faith, I'm going to give you a little something with no strings attached," he said taking a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and sliding it across the table to her.

"Thank you," she said not wasting any time in taking possession of the ten dollars and putting in her pocket.

Now, after she rids herself of him, she can buy a nail file, some deodorant, and a hot cup of coffee.

"Now that you mentioned it, if you don't mind me asking—"

Oh, here it comes. Nothing for nothing, she knew what he was going to ask before he even asked the question.

"What? You may ask me anything as long as you don't mind me not answering," she said with a little laugh of victory while giving him an attitude filled look.

He stared at her big tits before looking up at her blue eyes.

"I, um, was just curious how much you charge for a feel of your big tits, for a hand job, and/or a blowjob," he said staring again at the big, bulbous impressions her large breasts made in her shirt in the way that most men do.

Now wishing she hadn't invited him to sit, with her Valentine's meal no longer a happy meal but a sad, cold one, even though she was still very hungry, she was no longer enjoying her food. With her having not eaten all day and with him doing his best to ruin her appetite, she was still more interested in eating her lunch than in talking to him. She took another small bite of her burger and washed it down with a sip of her water. She looked up at him as if she was back in the alley. She looked at him as if he was just another man there to give her a few dollars in exchange for sex so that she could buy whatever it is she needed to survive on the street.

"Let's be clear. I'm not soliciting you for sex. Yet if I was to charge someone for sex, which I never would," she said lying. "I'd charge them five bucks for a feel of my tits outside of my shirt and bra. I'd charge them ten bucks for a feel of my boobs inside my shirt and under my bra. A buck a minute, I'd charge them ten bucks for a ten minute hand job and more if it takes them longer to cum. I'd charge them twenty dollars for a blowjob but I'd never put just anyone's cock in my mouth," she said with the attitude of a thousand dollar call girl instead of a homeless woman.

Now he stared at her with as much sexual excitement as he leered at her with sexual interest.

"May I cum in your mouth?"

In the way he looked at her and in the way he asked if he could cum in her mouth made her skin crawl. Then, when he reached his hand across the table to run his finger across her lips, wanting to bite his finger, she nearly threw his hot coffee in his face. As soon as he touched her in that way, she slapped his hand away. If he tried anything else in this public place, he'd be sorry.

"Fuck you! I wouldn't blow you never mind allow you to cum in my mouth," she said with months of pent up anger. "If I was a prostitute and I'm not, I'd charge another twenty bucks for a man to cum in my mouth and another ten if he wanted me to swallow. That's fifty dollars for a blowjob where he cums in my mouth and I swallow. Yet, for me to blow anyone, I'd have to want to suck their cock. I just don't fall to my knees for every man I meet holding a twenty dollar bill no matter how tired, cold, and hungry I am."

Giving her his best smug, sarcastic look, he looked at her with confidence that she was going to give him a blowjob.

"Are you interested in blowing me?"

Already turning her off and not wanting to have any more to do with him, she's met dozens of men like him.

"No," she said looking sternly at him before refocusing on eating her food. "I told you that already."

Suddenly with him obviously not having an appetite for his food in the way that he obviously had an appetite in wanting to have sex with her, and with him no longer eating his food, he stared at her before speaking.

"I have a car," he said.

He gave her a sexy smile.

"Lucky you," she said. "I used to have a car but that was lost in a flood along with everything else I owned in this world."

He made a face as if he didn't believe her while looking at her with prejudice.

"Lost everything? I don't hardly believe that," he said. "How can you lose everything in a flood? It's just water? As soon as it dries, it's as good as new."

Obviously, he's never been in a flood, a fire, or any type of disaster. Obviously he didn't understand what it means to lose everything that's important to you in your life. Obviously tragedy never befell his life and disaster never came knocking at his door. Tired of explaining, she explained yet again.

"I lived in a basement apartment with my mother across from the river that crested 30 feet above flood stage. The water was up to the second story of our apartment building. The police and fire department wouldn't allow anyone to retrieve their possessions until the water receded and until after the buildings were inspected," she said falling sad while remembering it as if it all happened yesterday.

"So?" He shrugged his indifference and she wasn't to reach out her foot and kick in his balls.

"It was three, long, sufferable weeks before we were allowed to get what was salvageable. Yet, with everything we owned sitting in a pool of water that was mixed with home heating oil, mold, and raw sewage, nothing was salvageable," she said. "Nothing. Ergo my reason for saying that I lost everything in a flood."

She returned his smile with a stern look. Apparently he wasn't so special after all. Much like all of the other men she met on the street, he just wanted a feel of her big tits, a tug of his little prick, and/or a suck of his hard cock. With all that she said falling on deaf ears, he didn't care that she lost everything in a flood and was homeless and living on the street. He only cared about one thing, his sexual appetite.

"We could go somewhere private," he said. "I'll give you fifty for you to blow me while I feel your tits and finger your nipples."

She rolled her eyes.

"Listen Mister, I don't know you. I don't get in anyone's car that I don't know. You could be Jeffrey Dahmer's younger brother for all that I know," she said. "I'm still alive and not in jail today because I'm careful. I'm still alive and not in jail today because I'm not stupid. I'm still alive today and not in jail today because I'm not desperate enough to take off with the likes of you for the promise of fifty dollars."