Eager to Please.
Chapter one.
This is a story about Rebecca, (but call her by that name and she's likely to kick you where it hurts, she prefers Reb), the first part (her history) was told to me by her over a couple of days. She is a pretty eighteen-year-old with short spikey hair, she is slim but has surprisingly big breasts and gorgeous green eyes.
Unfortunately for her she is only four feet eleven inches tall now (shorter than her peers when she was younger) and was bullied from an early age, so she learned to defend herself by attacking, but still lost more fights than she won but other kids became more wary of her. Her mother was a lone parent, her father deserted as soon as he knew she was pregnant, never to be seen again.
Reb's mother got into drink and drugs and like many, became a prostitute to pay the bills and to buy more drugs. One day she brought a client home and passed out, so he tried to molest Rebecca, she was fourteen at the time and ran to the kitchen and grabbed a large knife and threatened him with it, he thought she was bluffing but she slashed his hand as he reached for her.
He quickly left with blood dripping from the wound. That made her decide to leave home. She filled a backpack with her things plus the knife, and went out the back way in case the guy she'd cut was waiting to get her. She went to the park to think on where she could go and was still there when her mother found her and took her home (she knew that Rebecca loved going to the park).
Calling herself 'Reb' now, she started planning for her next attempt to escape, realising that she needed money to get anywhere, she stole a little at a time out of her mother's client payments and hid it in her room. She was sure it was safe because her mother never went into her room to clean it (she kept it clean and tidy herself).
It had been well over a year of saving and there was almost two hundred pounds in her stash when it disappeared, her mother had been suspicious in one of her more lucid moments, so when Rebecca was at school and she searched her room and found it, she did use some of it to pay the rent and buy food, but the rest went on drugs and alcohol.
Reb was furious but with her stash gone she had to start again, taking less at a time and not so frequently. She stayed in her room almost constantly when she was at home, and had fitted two big bolts that she had found in the garden shed to her door in case any clients wanted to try and have sex with her instead of her mother, like the other one had tried, she also kept a knife under her pillow.
Her mother knew that she was taking money again but used it as a savings plan because she could manage without a few pounds a week, but it was a nice bonus when she found the stash after a few months. Rebecca then split her cash and moved the plastic bags to different hiding places hoping they would be safe as at her age she couldn't open a bank account without her mother.
The moving worked and it was nine months before her mother found one stash, and thinking that was all of it, she didn't bother searching for a long time. Another factor in Reb's delay in escaping was that legally she was still a child, if she could wait until she was eighteen, she could not be forced to go back home, and she would have saved a lot more money.
The time came when she had her birthday (although her mother gave her nothing as usual). She collected all her stashes and counted it up and was surprised that it came to almost five hundred pounds, which she stuffed into the front pocket of her backpack. Creeping to the kitchen to add another knife to her backpack, she walked out, thinking that her mother was in a drug or booze induced stupor as usual.
As Reb turned left from her front gate, she heard footsteps from the other direction and turned to see the 'client' who tried to molest her all that time ago, was about to go into her house. "Hey, you little bitch, I still owe you one for cutting my hand!" She turned and ran, with him in pursuit.
Reb was quick, but he was persistent and was gaining to the point where he grabbed the backpack and pulled. She slipped out of the shoulder straps and kept running, and when she saw an open side door in a brick wall, she raced through, slammed it shut and bolted it. She ran towards the house on her side of the wall and hid around the back, under a shed, she heard the man banging the gate and cursing, while she gasped for air.
This big Victorian house was mine, my name is Andy, I'm twenty-eight, five feet nine and well build from playing a lot of rugby when I was younger. I recently inherited the house and was in the process of renovating it, slowly. When completed I might sell it and buy another 'doer upper' to work on as it was too big for one person to live in.
I saw her burst through the gate and bolt it, from an upstairs window. She ran towards the house but didn't knock, but disappeared out of sight. As I made my way downstairs to investigate, then I spotted a rough looking man coming through the front gate.
He looked around, then headed down the side path to the garden and outbuildings. I went out the back door, grabbing a five-foot walking staff on my way (one of many that I had made as a hobby while taking a break from the renovations). He came around the corner and saw me coming towards him.
"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my garden?" I shouted.
"Uhh, fuck it! My daughter ran away from home again and I was chasing her to uhh... take her home to her mother," he replied, "I thought that this place was derelict."
"No its not, I inherited it and I'm doing it up. I did see a girl come through the side gate, but she ran straight down the garden and climbed up that big Wisteria tree attached to the wall and went over into the road on the other side. But you are too heavy to climb up it, so you can go back the way you came, through the front gate and go round." I explained firmly, noticing that he was carrying a backpack.
He eyed the staff in my hand, turned around and headed back to the gate, I followed him to the front of the house and watched until he was gone. I walked to the rear of the house again and towards the workshop. "It's okay kid, he's gone, you can come out now. Is he really your father?" I asked in the general direction of the big workshop and a storage shed on blocks. After a few moments, a voice said,
"No, he was a so called 'friend' of my mother and had tried to.....you know... get friendly," she explained nervously, "He chased me to the kitchen, but I cut his hand with a knife, and he left me alone until today... Oh fuck!"
The expletive was because it had suddenly started to rain hard and by the time she had crawled out from under the shed, she was wet and muddy but holding a big knife in her hand.
"Would you like to clean up inside until the rain stops, before you leave?" I offered.
She looked up at the dark clouds all around and nodded, I turned and went in through the back door into the kitchen, leaving the walking staff by the door. I put the kettle on and offered her tea or coffee and she accepted the latter, and as it was midday I offered her a sandwich as I was about to make my own lunch. She washed her hands and face before sitting at one end of the table to eat and drink.
"So how much of what he said was bullshit?"
"Pretty much all of it, my mother became a drunk/druggy prostitute after my father legged it when she told him she was pregnant. I'm small, my mother called me petite, so I've had to fight for everything for as long as I can remember, and this was the final straw and he got my backpack with all my clothes, food, everything." She explained angrily, struggling to look tough and hold back the tears.
To change the mood, I tossed her a Mars Bar and told her a brief history of me.
"I'm twenty-eight, five feet nine tall and fairly fit, I studied engineering and architecture at Uni, then worked for a construction company for a few years to get practical experience." I explained, "Then my world collapsed, first my parents died in a plane crash in the Alps, and I was made redundant in a cost cutting exercise by the company I was working for. I had to sell my parent's house to pay death duties and funeral expenses."
"I was left with my grandparents very old and dilapidated, five bedroom house with outbuildings, in an acre of garden. There was a decent amount of cash left over from their estate and the insurance pay-out, after the taxes had been paid. With no work to go to, I decided that I would use my building skills to renovate the house to sell it and buy another and so on. Do you have anywhere safe to go?" I asked, but she shook her head.
"You are welcome to stay here tonight, there is only one habitable bedroom at the moment, but you are welcome to use the couch with a couple of blankets, while you make up your mind what to do next."
