Thanks to my editor, Mulligan, for the time and effort spent in helping me get this story posted.
In this story there are no consequences from unprotected unsafe sex, no diseases and no unwanted pregnancies, but remember it is a story, not the real world.
Readers from other parts of the world should note that most of this story is set in the UK, and the language is that which you find in the UK.
If any of the words are a problem have a look at http://www.english2american.com, and if this doesn't provide the answer e-mail me.
I haven't added a violent code, but there are two very short scenes where there is some violence, however it is quite low level and I don't think it would offend anyone, but if you are extra sensitive you have been warned
Jeanette was a pain in the arse, well more than that really. She was a foul-mouthed example of why many people hate youngsters. If anything was broken or went missing in our village you can bet Jeanette and her siblings were behind it. However, in spite of her attitude she was an attractive young woman. She had long unruly red hair, and was developing an eye-catching figure. I think someone must have been putting miracle grow on her boobs, as they started growing when she was about 12, and hadn't stopped, or so it seemed. She was always heavily made up, and wore outrageous clothes, which usually were designed to show the maximum possible amount of cleavage, boob and leg.
At 11 she was full of mischief, as she progressed through her teens the mischief turned into more. By 17 she was the scourge of the village where we lived. She had pissed everyone off. Some of the older residents were scared of her and her foul mouth; other residents took other measures depending upon their own outlook, and I know her long suffering mother was repaying several residents a few pounds a week to pay for damage caused by her wayward daughter.
Mrs. Billings had 5 children, with Jeanette being the oldest. She had produced the 5 at roughly one-year intervals until the worthless piece of shit that called himself a husband decided that he would move on shortly after the youngest was born. Mrs. Kimberly Billings tried to raise them on her own, but although she had been a good wife to her husband she was too soft with the children, and with her husband gone they had pushed against the boundaries, found none, and went wild.
My involvement began one lazy hot late August afternoon. My house, although only 2 bedrooms, was an old farmworker's cottage, and it had a long garden stretching down to the fields which surrounded the village. The garden was a bit of a liability really. Gardening wasn't my strong point, and when I moved here last year after my marriage broke up I decided to grass the bottom half, which had previously been a vegetable garden, and planted some fruit trees as there was already a large apple tree there. I was sat on the grass under the kitchen window, listening to cricket on a Walkman radio.
It was quite unusual for me to be just sat, but I hate the heat, and it was hot. It was probably the hottest day of the year, and I overdid the beer the previous evening, and woke up that morning feeling sorry for myself. I was now over the worst of that, but my energy levels were sapped by the heat and the after-effects of the hangover; so I was having a rare 'chilled out' day.
As I sat listening I could hear sounds coming from the garden. I couldn't see what was going on, as there was a thick hedge, which separated what used to be vegetable garden from the house. I went down to investigate. As I appeared from around the hedge 3 of the Billings brats ran off towards the low wall that separated the garden from the field. The little bastards had ripped the branches off of two of the apple trees, and uprooted them. I was furious, and I gave chase. Jeanette Billings decided to turn and face me, and called out "You can't fucking catch us" before turning to run again. This was her undoing, it allowed me to gain those few extra yards, and I dived at her, taking her down in a classic rugby tackle.
As she tried to pick herself up she stopped to spit at me and again this gave me a vital second and I grabbed her wrists, and dragged her up. At this she carried on with her attitude, and looked at me and sneered "You can't fucking touch me". Wrong! I was now beyond furious, it was red mist time. I dragged Jeanette to a small wooden shed, which housed the various gardening implements.
I threw her over a pile of sacks and rubbish, and paddled her arse with my hand, as hard as I could, and trust me it was HARD. She had a very short pair of shorts on, they were thin, and I was in a major temper, so it hurt. I think the shock of my reaction had taken the fight out of the normally rebellious teenager, and after the third whack she started to snivel. Two more and she was sobbing, and two more after that and between the sobs she said, "OK I'm sorry! Please stop, it fucking kills!"
I dragged her to her feet again and said very calmly and quietly, said "You still owe me for two new apple trees, they were around £30 each, and YOU can replant them. I will see your mother about paying me off"
I then marched her up the garden, round the side of the house and up the village. By now Jeanette was recovering her composure, and said "I will report you for that beating, and you'll get into trouble". I replied, again very quietly "Yes you could, and I would get into trouble, but just think what I might do to you after I'd been to court, and got a fine or even prison. I have already proved that I am not afraid of you and that physically you are no match for me, so the eventual outcome would be pain and suffering for you. I am sick of you and your brothers and sisters running riot, so after I leave you with your mother you should keep out of my way, forever. And don't do anything stupid like reporting me because that will just make me more angry than I was today"
By now we were at her house, and I barged her through the gate, still holding her wrists. Her mother was working in the garden and she looked up and said, "Jeanette, what have you been doing to Mr. Swinton?"
I answered for her, conveniently leaving out the smacked arse, and told Mrs. Billings she owed me about £60, and that I would send her the bill when I had ordered two new trees and that I expected Jeanette to do the replanting as well.
Mrs. Billings looked close to tears, and said, "I am sorry. I will pay you, but it will have to be weekly, as I don't get much money. I could probably afford £5 a week". I knew she was already paying at least two other people for damage caused by her wayward daughter, and I felt a bit sorry for her, but not sorry enough to let her off. I looked at Jeanette and said, "You have left school, why don't you get a job, to help your mother out". She looked about to reply, probably with a 'fuck you', but thought better of it and went into the house.
By now I had calmed down a little, and left to return home. As I left Mrs. Billings said, "I am sorry. I do try, but she won't listen to me"
I replied "Well she listened to me, perhaps you need to change your tactics"
When I got home I thought about the encounter, and decided that Jeanette had taken my warning seriously, and I that I probably would hear no more about it.
I dropped the bill for 2 new fruit trees in on the Monday, and on the Thursday Mrs. Billings showed up with the first payment of £5. She seemed quite embarrassed and disappeared before I could speak to her. The trees would need planting when they arrived, and I still meant to make Jeanette plant them. The nursery however advised me that they would not be able to dispatch the trees for another 2 months, as you should not disturb them during the growing season.
About a week later I broke my leg. I was still playing veterans' rugby at 45 years old, and it was a warm up match before the season proper kicked off. It was a pure accident, but I was looking at 8-12 weeks in plaster. I immediately realised that normal activities were going to be a problem. Driving, shopping, even housework would be difficult, if not impossible. A colleague at work said that he had employed a sort of home help when he broke his leg, and taking his advice I placed an ad in the local paper "Male requires help about the house and beyond, while broken leg heals - ring ... evenings."
The paper came out on a Thursday, and I was waiting in to see what response I got. There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Billings was stood on the step, with her stroppy daughter behind her.
"Can we come in, I want to talk to you," Mrs. Billings asked.
I let them in, and I looked hard at Jeanette. She was wearing her usual tart clothes and makeup, but she said nothing. That was a first.
Mrs. Billings got to the point straight away. "Would you give Jeanette the job?"
I was gob smacked. This was the girl I had given a trashing to less than a fortnight ago.
Mrs. Billings carried on "She WILL behave, I will promise, and if she doesn't you can punish her again"
So Jeanette had told her mum about my thrashing her.
I looked at Mrs. Billings again and said, "Why should I? What's in it for me? I have already had two other applicants." That was a lie, but I felt I was being manoeuvred into something that quite frankly scared me.
"Because Jeanette lives just up the road; because she needs a job; and because with no public transport into Easingwold her chances of getting a job are zero. She will work extra hours without complaining, to help me clear the bills that she has left me with."
.... There is more of this story ...