Chapter 1

When I exited Walmart on the cold and rainy night something caught the corner of my eye. Turning my head a bit I perceived a shabbily dressed woman holding out a cup for alms. She was not one of the brazen professionals but seemed to shrink away from the light, actually defeating her purpose.

I pause and turned towards her. A flicker of fear ran across her face. Something was definitely wrong here. I don’t usually give money to street beggars but this was different. I didn’t try to get too close, sensing her “space” was maybe bigger than usual.

“Can I buy you something to eat?” She didn’t seem to understand so I pantomimed eating. Her face softened and a hint of a smile indicated I’d communicated.

She stumbled out in very bad English with an unrecognizable accent, “Food me. Fook you?” I nodded and signaled her to follow me to the fast food place inside. She was wet and not very clean so some shoppers just stared at the two of us. I led her to the back corner and sat her down. She was shivering. Cold or anxiety?

The South American chicken dishes on the menu got her attention and she pointed to some items. I hadn’t had dinner yet so ordered for two. She was ravenous and I considered getting more but also realized that eating too much too fast could make her sick.

I had to communicate somehow. In the next booth was a young teen girl who switched between Spanish and English quite easily. I turned and asked, “Can you help me?” She came to our table and I asked her to translate. It didn’t work and the girl said, “I think she speaks Portuguese from Brazil.”

When my mystery woman heard Brazil she smiled. Jackpot!

I got out my smartphone and downloaded a translation app. When I asked it a simple question for her she couldn’t read the result. OK, try again.

When I got the voicing mode working she perked up, sometimes smiling at the translations just like I did the English ones back. But we had connected. One important question was, “Can I take you somewhere tonight?”

She answered, “Where would that be?”

I rephrased, “Do you live somewhere I can take you?” Her sad head shake didn’t need translation.”

“You are welcome to stay at my house.” I’d sensed that she was getting less fearful of me.

“OK.”

I opened the door to my car like a gentleman and that impressed her. I had to show her how to fasten the seatbelt.

When we pulled up to my modest home her eyes went wide and she gawked as she went inside. She spoke to my phone and asked, “You own this? Are you rich?” I just smiled.

I’d noticed how she smelled in the restaurant so I took her to the guest bathroom and got out towel and robe. She seemed to be at a loss so I showed her how to adjust the water and pantomimed washing. She nodded and smiled.

It was quite a while later when she found me in the kitchen enjoying a pot of tea. Her hair was unbrushed but clean and she seemed happier. I offered her ice cream and she dug in gratefully.

When she finished the treat she stood up and came over to me. “We fook?”

I was baffled until she pantomimed me, holding a thumb and forefinger in a circle by her crotch and pushing the middle finger of her other hand in and out. Aha! “fook” is “fuck”. She was offering the only thing she had to repay my kindness.

I stood up and hugged her gently. Her arms went around me and she sobbed on my shoulder. I needed to know more.

Holding up a bottle of wine as a suggestion, she nodded so I poured two glasses and started up the translation program again.

Her story was that about six months ago she and her husband had tried to get to the US. He’d gotten crossways with the cayotes and they killed him and raped her. She’d been in sexual slavery ever since but had been brought here. Earlier today she’d escaped.

The fact that I didn’t just immediately use her body helped her to trust me, plus all my other kindnesses. Refusing her offer would hurt her too. Then I remembered that I had some condoms.

I stood in front of her and gave her a kiss on her forehead (she was quite a bit shorter than me) and on each cheek. Her eyes were shut. I opened her robe and began kissing slowly lower and lower. Her eyes opened and she shivered. I guessed her to be about thirty with full firm breasts that had some bruise marks. There was a big shiver when I nibbled on each nipple and she pulled me closer so I nursed on them gently.

After I reached her lower belly just above the dark bush I had turned her around and kissed her back and ample buns. Going lower was going to be awkward while we were standing but she was astute enough to sit on the edge of the couch with her legs separated. I noticed her eyes were closed again as I explored her female flower. It was one of those where the inner lips protrude like petals.

She interrupted, “We fook?” I could taste and smell her arousal. I rolled on a condom and entered easily. She pulled me on top of her and locked our mouths together. I hardly had to move, her hips were so active. I came but stayed hard as she humped against me until she screeched and shook in her own release, then went silent.

After a bit I disengaged and cleaned up. With the app I asked, “Are you all right?”

She gave me the sweetest smile yet with her answer, “I have not had such a good one since my husband.” Now if that doesn’t warm your heart, nothing will.

She snuggled all night in my bed and we used another condom in the morning. A shower together was a delight for her, and me too. I called a boyhood friend of mine who was a family practitioner and he worked her into his schedule.

“Yasmin is basically healthy and we are running some labs for VD, given what you told me. Have you had sex with her?”

I explained how she insisted but used condoms. “Keep using them until I say otherwise.” The nurse came in with some results so he added, “Oh, and she’s pregnant. Probably not long. What do you want to do about that? I have a gynecologist that would give her a D&C if I asked.”

I told him I’d discuss it with her and let him know.

That news brought her to tears. Finally she was able to explain that they had wanted children but none came. To have one from prostitution now growing in her was both a joy and a disappointment.

My doctor friend knew a woman who spoke Portuguese and she came over. The three of us talked late into the night and Yasmin decided that termination made the most sense in spite of all the emotions around it. I made the call and a few days later she was recovering and declared healthy. BTW, I had a vasectomy years ago so birth control wasn’t an issue for us at least.