Chapter 2: BFF and Home Repairs

I worried about what a pervert I was for the first mile as I drove away from the house. I had a ‘hot’ sixteen-year-old girl at my house and she was in trouble at her home, and I’d just perved out on her body as we took pictures of the bruises her mother’s boyfriend had inflicted on her a day earlier. What was I thinking? I could get arrested, even for having the pictures on my cellphone – kiddie porn.

When I stopped in the supermarket parking lot, I did take my phone out and looked at the pictures. I ignored the close-ups of the bruises and looked at the pictures that showed the truly sexy sixteen-year-old. There was one especially as she stood with one foot on the seat of a kitchen chair. In that one picture, there were pretty well no secrets and nothing hidden from view. Why was she trusting me?

I got my groceries and dry cleaning and stewed about how I could help Wendy. I worried about the police, CPS, Jack, and then other less specific threats to her and to me for harboring her at my house. Then again, how would anybody know she was there?

On the way home, I stopped and bought a burner phone with four hours of time on it.

When I got home, Wendy was sitting in my kitchen at the table wearing one of my shirts. She looked apologetic. She also looked like an atomic sex-bomb. I don’t think she was wearing anything other than the shirt.

“I kind of poked around while you were out. ALL of my clothes were wet from the rain last night and some were dirty when I packed them in a rush. I’ve been using the washer and dryer since you left. I couldn’t find a robe so I borrowed this shirt from your closet. Please don’t be mad at me. I just thought I should be wearing something when you got home. I promise that I’ll wash and iron it when I have something else to wear.”

I commented with a chuckle, “That shirt never looked as good on me as it looks on you. That’s fine. I want you to make yourself at home here. Just please excuse the disruption with my projects here and there in the house.

“I decided that you can hide out here if you want. I know it’s temporary, and I may not be the best housemate, but I promise I’ll keep you safe as best I can. You can use the guest room for as long as you want to stay. If you need anything, let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.”

Wendy hurled herself at me and kissed me hard – on the lips. She gushed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise you won’t regret this. You’re such a nice guy. After I got over my shock in the car, I could tell. I want to be your friend and I’ll try to earn my keep here.”

I interrupted, “I do have a couple of tasks for you, however.”

“Tasks? You mean like cleaning? No problem. I can cook, too.”

“No, the immediate tasks are calling the police and your mother to tell them you’re all right and don’t want to be found. You don’t need to tell them where you are. I bought you a burner phone, but the same rule should probably apply: don’t leave it on unless you’re using it. Come on, we’re taking a little drive so you’re not making the calls from here. I want to be near other cellphone towers than the ones near this house.”

I drove us about twenty miles to Fort Myers beach near one of their beach pavilions and explained to Wendy about using the burner phone. She rehearsed what she’d say in the two calls that I wanted her to make. We used my phone to look up the first number to call.

She called the Sarasota police rather than 9-1-1, and informed them that she had left her family because of yet another beating and attempted rape by her mother’s boyfriend and that she was safely traveling and would remain in touch. She didn’t want to be found. She talked to a female detective that seemed to understand Wendy’s problems, the situation with CPS that had twice returned her to danger, and would try to contain things from getting into a frantic statewide manhunt and amber alert. Apparently, she hadn’t been reported as missing yet. Wendy got the detective’s name and direct number in case she wanted to talk to her again.

When Wendy called her mother’s cellphone, she didn’t answer, but Wendy left a message explaining why she’d fled and again that she was safe and didn’t want to be pursued or brought home until she had healed and was ready with some kind of protection from Jack. She even used the diverting line, “I’ll be safer out west for the time being, but I’ll come back east within a year or so.” She also stated that she’d call back in a few days if she had time before she got to her destination.

Wendy then called her best friend or BFF and also explained about her travels. I was surprised to hear her giving out my name and address from memory, but stating that that was Top Secret information or else she’d get beaten and maybe even killed if Jack ever caught up with her. I learned later that she’d seen some mail addressed to me on the kitchen counter.

As she talked, I passed her my driver’s license. “Take a picture of it and send it to your friend. Just ask her not to share it unless you really drop off the face of the earth. I have no intent to ever harm you.”

Wendy did what I indicated but not before giving me a disarming smile of approval. She said that Tracy felt better about her suddenly just starting to stay with me out of the clear blue. I heard Wendy tell her about sleeping in my car and getting caught, too.

After she turned off the phone, I suggested another errand and she agreed. Wendy was a brunette. I stopped at a drug store on the way home and bought some hair dye. My new friend was going to become a bottle blonde.

Once home, we spent two hours changing her appearance. Wendy sat in the bathroom wearing only her newly dried underwear with a towel wrapped around her body as we worked on her hair. I think that we were hyper aware of each other and I did nothing to flirt or violate her trust in me. We had to do the dye job twice for it to have the full effect. She was as gorgeous as a blonde as she’d been as a brunette.

While we were working on her new ‘look’, we talked. I gave out my life story about my family, schooling, and jobs since I’d graduated. I even talked about being a geek or nerd, and how my shyness had resulted in a pretty sterile set of relationships. I had had my moments, but they were few and far between.

When we finished, Wendy had long lustrous blonde hair, and looked beautiful after the change, especially with her darker eyebrows. We also both agreed that the new hair color made her look about five years older and more collegiate. She liked the result. To play to that theme, I dug around in my closet and found her a couple of t-shirts from my alma mater that she could wear if she went out that would signal that she was a student or grad from there. She liked that idea, too. She didn’t have any clothes from her college.

Further with the idea of looking older, we made a list of things that older girls or women would wear or how they would present of themselves rather than the way a sixteen-year-old girl would. They’d carry a large purse or shoulder bag and not a backpack, their hair would be contained somehow, they’d use some light makeup – especially around their eyes, they’d have a pedicure and manicure, their footwear would be more solid and grounding, or have more glitz to it. We had quite a list. I promised we’d add some of the props the next time we went out.

I gave Wendy one of my old laptop computers to play with after our late lunch. We talked about how traceable she’d be on some websites, such as Facebook and how she also shouldn’t reveal her new ‘look’.

Wendy was smart. She went online and downloaded some photographs that someone had taken in New Orleans. She selected a picture that she had on her cellphone that was a selfie, and pasted her image onto a picture of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The picture then got posted on Facebook. Her caption for the photo on her FB page was ‘Love the Big Easy but that was yesterday. Miles to go heading west before I sleep.’

I tasked Wendy with making a salad for the two of us. She did that while I prepared to grill some steaks that I’d bought that morning, and then we warmed up some frozen peas. We talked as we worked in the kitchen. Wendy wanted to know more about me and my job. I wanted to know more about how she thought about the world.

We had an easy banter. I had to move outside to grill and she stayed inside cutting up things for the salad. Everything seemed so natural that I now had a female living with me. The rain had stopped while I grilled. As I fired up the grill and then put the steaks on, I started to think about ‘What next?’ with Wendy. She couldn’t and probably shouldn’t live at my house forever. Then I thought about how she really hadn’t even stayed with me for one night. I decided to play the whole situation by ear – one day at a time.

Later, after some TV, I asked Wendy to get ready for bed and to make sure she had everything that she needed. I made sure she had towels, wash cloth, a new toothbrush, and all those kinds of things. She had an extra blanket for the bed if she got chilled by the AC. I bid her goodnight and went to my own bedroom. I was in bed and asleep ten minutes later.

When I woke up the next morning I was sleeping on my left side. My right arm held the sleeping lump that was pressed tightly into my warm body – Wendy. I jerked slightly at the realization that my new boarder was in bed with me. Moreover, I was kind of wrapped around her, too. At least we had clothes on.

To make matters worse, I had a case of morning wood that might make the record books. I was clad only in my briefs. Wendy apparently wore only one of the college t-shirts that I’d given her the night before. My wood was pressed against the whole crack of her adorable ass.

I moved carefully so I didn’t wake her. I moved an inch, and so did she – following me as she hitched her body to stay in contact. She was still breathing deeply, so was asleep.

I slowly lifted the arm that had been draped over her body, but she somehow reached and took hold of my hand and brought it to her body, specifically directing my hand to one of her breasts clad in the thin t-shirt. I didn’t do anything, but I could feel her nipple and then I realized that the longer my hand was there the more I could feel. My hand was arousing her. While that was happening, my morning wood was moving into new ground, as it tried to merge with her warm body. With my groin near hers, that was a distinct possibility. I didn’t know whether she had underpants on or not.

I thought of all the things wrong with that situation. I rolled over completely, turning my back on her body. I feigned doing it all in my sleep. She cuddled against my backside, and didn’t move further. I felt better and dozed for a few more minutes before I got up to tend to necessity.

I was making waffles when Wendy appeared in the kitchen. She looked sexier than anything I could imagine in that t-shirt and nothing else. My imagination ran wild. I’d tried to be quiet, but I guess she’d heard me mixing the batter. She sat and I slid a cup of coffee in front of her and pointed at the sugar and cream on the table. To my surprise, she drank her coffee black. We were quiet.

The waffles went over well; the first two disappeared in record time. I asked her, “Thirds?” She nodded enthusiastically and said, “Yes, please. I’m starved.”

I decided not to mention her sleeping in my bed. If she left later in the day, that would be the end of it anyway. She did ask what I planned to do that day.

I responded by pointing at the wall, ceiling, and floor where I’d removed a wall. “I plan to repair the damage I’ve done now that the wall that was there is no longer and I’ve moved the utilities that were in it. I have the wood, sheet rock, tape, joint compound, and stipple spray to get it to the point that it could be painted. I want to complete all that today. Maybe I could paint that after work next weekend. The floor will need sanding, too.” I also explained to her about flipping the house when I was through all my projects for it. I’d make a lot of money for my effort, and then buy another to fix-up and flip.

Wendy announced, “I’ll help ... if you tell me what to do. I took Shop back in school so know how to use some tools and stuff. I even built a bookcase for my bedroom.”

I pointed at the floor where the wall had stood. “While I work on the ceiling, you see if you can fill that in so that the new flooring is level with the existing floor. The floor boards to use are against that wall, and the saw and other stuff is sitting there, too. Don’t cut your fingers off and use goggles, please.” I figured that I’d give her a project and see how long before she had questions or got in trouble. I had low expectations for what would happen.

The next I knew; Wendy had a sheet of paper from my kitchen notepad and was using my tape measure to get the exact dimensions of the ten-inch wide by eight-feet long gap in the flooring. I noticed that she measured everything three times to check her work. Good girl.

I got occupied cutting back the gap in the ceiling so I could screw new wallboard to the ceiling rafters. I also measured, cut, and then got my patch in place and secure. Next, I taped the joints and cracks with joint compound and the wallboard tape. It didn’t look pretty, but it was what was needed. I’d apply some stipple to my patch after the compound was dry so that once painted the texture would match the rest of the ceiling.

I had heard Wendy cutting wood and then some screws being put in place with the electric drill. When I glanced down from my ladder, I thought she was doing a credible job. Wendy had completed the sub flooring, and then started to install the last of the hardwood flooring with hidden nails. The job was flawless when I looked.

“Wendy, that’s really great. You’re doing super.” I lavished genuine praise on her. I was really surprised that she’d done the job I’d assigned without asking for help, and done a good job of it, too.

She bowed. “Thank you. What are you going to do about the finish?”

I explained, “I need to rent a sander and do the entire dining room floor area, and then reseal everything with two coats of high-gloss polyurethane. I need to fix the wall first, however.”

She nodded as though she understood that perfectly. I believed that she did actually.

We did the wall patch together, and it only took a half-hour. My all-day project had only taken three hours thanks to her help and the ease with which we worked together.

We had a late lunch. I made soup and sandwiches. Over lunch I asked what she’d like to do for the afternoon. Wendy said, “I’d love to go to the beach now that it’s not stormy, and I’d like to have my BFF Tracy meet us so she knows that I’m really safe and in good hands. Would you be willing to meet her? She’s cute. You’ll like each other.”

Wendy gave me a coy look. For the first time, I felt that she was flirting with me. I got a really warm feeling in my core just thinking about that.