Waif

by Selena Anders

I used my cell phone to call a taxi from the frozen city street-corner. It was Christmas Eve, and I wrapped my scarf closer around my neck. As I stood there, stamping my feet to keep the blood moving, I felt eyes on me.

She looked so miserable, sitting in the snow on a Minneapolis sidewalk. "Will work for fodd", the sign said, as it dangled from her hunched-up knees. I could have walked by her a hundred times before, but the recent snowstorm had caused everyone to pile the snow up so there was only a narrow bit of sidewalk left, and she was in the middle of it.

Maybe it was the season. Maybe it was the incessant jingling of the Salvation Army Santa nearby. Whatever the reason, I bent over and said, "Look girl, you'll freeze to death here. Come with me." And I gave her a hand up, just as the taxi arrived. "You poor girl," I told her as she huddled close to me in the back of the cab, "you must be half-frozen already." She remained silent, but turned to hold me close, with her head in my lap. As the taxi made its way through the frozen streets, I felt the girl's warm breath against my chest. I looked down, and saw that her lips were pressed against my breast, almost as though she was nursing through my blouse and bra. I threw a corner of my sable coat over her, and my hand came to rest on her skinny hip. She was wearing a worn and cracked leather mini-skirt over tights that were full of holes and runs. As she continued to bury her face in my breasts, she began to curl up in a little ball, and my hand drifted from skirt to thigh, and my fingers found one of the many rips. The touch of my fingertips on her naked flesh caused her to gasp, and to curl up in a tighter ball, exposing more of her wretchedly clad ass to my wandering hand. I found another hole in the knit fabric covering her crotch, and as I slid a couple of fingers inside she moaned and tried to take more of my breast into her mouth.

I helped the girl up the steps of my townhouse, and once inside I helped her remove her coat. The poor dear was so cold she couldn't stand, so I let her curl up on the carpet in front of the fireplace as I turned on the gas and a warm flame began to dance. Slowly she began to warm up, and I pulled her ratty old clothes off her, and covered her with a blanket. When she finally fell asleep, I went through her bag and found 21 cents, some old cracked lipstick, and no identification worth having. I threw her clothes in the washer then headed to the kitchen to prepare some soup. Leaving the soup to simmer, I went to my bedroom to get changed into a long slinky satin nightie, one with both sides slit up to my hips. Back in the kitchen, I took the soup off the burner and poured some into two mugs, before returning to my place before the fire. As I sipped my soup, I extended my feet toward the gas fire to warm them, and they came to rest near the girl's head. I stared into the flames, wondering what I should do about the girl.

Soon she stirred, and looked at me. “Where are my clothes?”

“In the laundry. There’s a cup of soup for you. It will warm you up.” I pointed to the mug where it sat on the hearth. She sat up and reached for it then moved closer to me and wrapped her free hand around my legs, just below the knee. For the next few minutes she alternately laid her head on my knee, or straightened it to sip the broth, all the while staring into the flames. “What’s your name?” I asked, “and where do you live?”

“Sarah, and I don’t live anywhere, at least not now.”

That last part got me curious. “Where did you used to live?”

“In a rich lady’s big house, but she only likes young girls for her servants, so when I got to be 15 she fired me. That was five months ago.”

“You used to cook and clean house?” I asked.

“Yes Mistress, and more personal things like giving her a shower, and massages and manicures.”

Mistress? Nobody had ever called me that before. To cover my surprise, I said, “Well, right now you seem to need a shower even more than I do.”

That caused her to burst into tears, “I’m sorry, Mistress! I didn’t mean to displease you. Please don’t make me go away!”

“Now calm down.” I told her. “I’m not going to make you go away, at least not tonight. Now since we both need to get clean, and you seem to be an expert on the subject, let’s go.” I had never in my life even dreamed of letting someone else wash me, but I had never met anyone like Sarah before either. So I led her to the bathroom, and she followed willingly, leaving her blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace. Once in the bathroom I turned and looked at Sarah. I could see that under the grime, she might be very pretty. Her body was almost scrawny, but so are a lot of big name models. “You don’t have any hair down there.” I observed.

Sarah blushed, “I hope you don’t mind. My old Mistress had it removed.” Then she reached into the shower and turned on the water. She waited until it was just the right temperature, then drew me inside. Sarah really did know how. The scalp massage as she washed my hair was wonderful, and her skillful hands all over the rest of me were both relaxing and exciting. She slowly relaxed my shoulders, then her soapy hands reached around to caress my breasts. She whispered in my ear, “You are much more lovely than my old Mistress, but then, you are also much younger. I hope I can please you.” And with that she gently pinched my nipples.

Please don’t think that I always go around picking up girls to get in the shower with. I had never touched a naked girl before, although I had looked, in the showers at the gym. It was just that Sarah made it all seem so, natural. I relaxed and just enjoyed it as her slick finger slid slowly down the crack of my ass. She didn’t try to penetrate my bum hole. She was just making sure I was really clean, and maybe relaxing me a bit more.

Sarah’s other hand gently parted the lips of my pussy, carefully soaping every little fold, and delicately teasing my clit. I just closed my eyes and surrendered to her ministrations. The only problem was that she knew just how to bring me to the edge of a climax, without pushing me over. Eventually my knees gave out and I sank to the floor of the shower, a quivering mass of desire.

Somewhere in all of that, Sarah managed to wash her own hair too, and emerged from the shower as clean as I was. She helped me stand up, and wrapped me in a big fluffy towel. She let me back to the fireplace, where the cups of soup were cold, but that didn’t matter. She pushed me back into my chair, and sank to her knees at my feet.

Slowly, Sarah parted my legs and began to lick her way up the insides of my thighs. It didn’t even occur to me to resist. Instead, I slid my hips forward on the chair and opened my legs even farther. I squirmed, impatient for Sarah’s lips and tongue to complete that agonizingly slow journey to my sex. The first long slow lick up my distended labia was like lightning, and the next was just as bad, I mean good, I mean strong, I mean I don’t know the words. Sarah’s tongue was exquisite torture, and I sank my fingers into her still-damp hair, pulling her to me and humping her face as hard as I could. I felt her tongue enter me, and the world exploded in a shower of stars.

I don’t know how long Sarah kept me cumming, but when she finally stopped, I was exhausted; and she was grinning like a cat that had pillaged the cream.

“I saw where your bedroom is.” Sarah said. “Let me help you.” So this homeless stranger led me to my king size bed that had always seemed far too big before. She tucked me in, then slid under the covers beside me. Now the bed seemed just the right size. I felt her arm slide across my chest and come to rest with my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it gently.

Softly I fell asleep, dreaming of the strange blessings of Christmas.