Among the various pieces of wisdom that Bobby's grandfather handed out on a regular basis was, "No matter how bad you think your day is going, you can be sure that for somebody else out there, it's going ten times worse." There was nothing particularly profound about this idea, of course, but it did in most cases seem to be true.

Tonight, for instance, as 16 year-old Bobby sat alone at home on a rainy Tuesday night in June, stressing about whether or not he'd get a call from his parents saying that Poppy had finally given up the ghost and died. That, he thought, was pretty bad. Until he happened to be walking into the living room, noticed some lights outside, peered through the front window, and saw that somebody's car had broken down. The road was about a hundred yards from the house, and the car was another hundred yards down the road, so he couldn't make out much in the way of detail. But the small car's four-way flashers were clearly on. Poor bastard -- it was really coming down in buckets out there. Since he'd been in the back room surfing for porn on the computer all night, he wasn't really sure how long the car had been there. They hadn't come knocking, so Bobby could only guess they'd used a cell phone to call for help.

Still, this was a quiet back road in a small town. He knew exactly what both his grandfather and his father would do in a situation like this. They'd go out and offer help, even if it meant getting soaked to the bone. Because it was the right thing to do. And so, true to his genes, Bobby pulled on an old pair of sneakers and a jacket, and ventured out into the heavy rain to see what kind of assistance he could offer.

Before he even got halfway down the drive, Bobby saw another pair of headlights. It looked to be a tow-truck, probably from Ray's Garage down the road -- they were the nearest AAA option. Great, he thought, I came all the way out here and got wet for nothing. He paused a moment, considered going back to the house, then decided to push ahead. After all, he was already out here. Hee walked to the end of the drive, then down the road, and kept the flashlight pointed at the ground in front of his feet the entire way, on the lookout for puddles and fallen branches. The last thing he wanted to do was go tripping over something and land on his face.

As he drew closer to the car, Bobby felt a bad vibe. He saw the tow truck there, parked behind the car, and saw two figures standing beside it, bathed in the glow of the truck's headlights. One was clearly a woman, a blonde, wearing what looked to be the thin jacket of a track suit, a thigh-length denim skirt, and sneakers. The other was the tall and hulking form of a man. Not just any man, though. Gus Fargus. That was bad news in and of itself, and no doubt accounted for the vibe. Gus was leaning down and in toward the woman a lot closer than seemed necessary, and she seemed to be leaning away to counter the gesture. Bobby was no expert on body language, but he knew trouble when he saw it. He picked up his pace, without quite running, and a few seconds later, he was there, sidling up behind Gus.

At first glance, the woman looked terrified. Upon seeing Bobby, though, a wash of relief played over her face. Not that he was physically impressive-looking enough to be a match for Gus or anything. He topped out at a measly 5'5", and the woman herself seemed to be a few inches taller than that. She was probably just happy to have anybody else there. She probably knew, as Bobby did, that a creep like Gus Fargus wasn't a complete idiot, and that he was only a true threat if he felt he wouldn't get caught. "Is everything okay here?" Bobby asked, speaking loudly.

Caught by surprise or not, Gus never moved very fast. He turned to Bobby with all the speed of an overweight dinosaur, glared at him, and let out a low grunt. He mulled his thoughts for a moment, then said, "The lady and I were discussing where I should take her after we drop her car off at the garage."

Bobby glanced over at the woman, whose eyes still looked panicked, and she gave her head a curt shake.

"I tell you what," Bobby said. "It seems a shame to have this poor lady standing out in the rain while you get the car all rigged up. Why don't I just take her in the house and keep her dry?"

Gus grunted again. "No reason for that. She can sit in the truck."

"Yes," the woman said, chiming in, "but I also have to go to the bathroom."

Bobby smiled. "See, she has to use the bathroom. You don't expect her to wait until you get all the way to the garage to go to the bathroom, do you? That's probably... unhealthy or something."

Gus let out another grunt, his brain clicking almost visibly inside his thick skull.

"As a matter of fact," Bobby said, thinking fast, "you know what? I bet my parents would be happy to take this nice lady anyplace she wants to go tonight. So you really don't need to go out of your way."

Gus looked over at the house. "I don't see a car."

"My father went out for milk. He'll be back in a few minutes."

With a final grunt, Gus gave the woman once last drooling glance, from head to foot and back up again. "Fine," he said, and lumbered off to the cab of the truck, to begin the process of moving it into position.

For her part, the woman didn't even wait for Bobby to offer an invitation or lead the way. She started down the road toward the driveway at a fast clip, leaving Bobby behind to catch up with her. Once he did, she turned to him and said, "Thank you so much. You have no idea. He was just..."

"I know," Bobby said, leading the way now. "My father went to high school with Gus, and tells me stories. I think he was in prison for a few years. He's not exactly Prince Charming, is he?"

"Why do they let people like that... you know, help people in the middle of the night?"

"Well, he served his time, I guess. And his father owns the garage."

"Will I have to see him tomorrow?" she asked, arms tightly crossed.

"Probably not. Ray -- his dad -- he's the one who does most of the actual work. He's a nice guy."

"Good," she said.

"For whatever it's worth, I doubt Gus actually would have tried anything. He's still on probation, I think."

The woman laughed nervously and loudly. "That's easy enough to say from your perspective. Try being a woman for thirty years, and tell me if it's still so easy then to guess what a guy might or might not do."

Bobby felt rebuffed. She was right, of course. What did he know? "I'm sorry," he said.

The two didn't say another word to each other until they reached the house. Bobby let her in, then immediately reached down to take his sneakers off. He was deliberately making a point of not turning back to look at her, because he felt stupid for what he'd said before, and didn't want to see the accusation on her face.

By the time he'd finished, though, and stood up straight again, Bobby finally did turn, and noticed that the woman hadn't moved at all since she'd stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind her. In fact, she was just standing there, dripping wet, her arms still tightly crossed, staring off into space, her body beginning to shake.

What should he do? "M'am... are you... okay?"

But she didn't seem to hear him. The shakes just grew worse, and a look of dread crossed her face.

"M'am? You're kind of... scaring me now."

And then her lip quivered. And then the sobbing started. Oh shit, Bobby thought.

"M'am, it's okay." He did the first and only thing he knew to do when a woman was crying, which was to step up and put his arms around her. "It's okay, really." Bobby wasn't sure exactly what he was saying was okay, but again, it was the only thing he knew to say at a moment like this. He just held his arms around her tightly balled torso, and patted her lightly on the back, as the sobbing increased. "It's okay."

After a few minutes of this, the sobs dwindled off, and the woman uncrossed her arms. She patted him lightly on the chest, which he took as a cue to pull his own arms away and step back again. "Thank you," she said, looking up at him with a pair of wide blue-green eyes that, even bloodshoot, could not fail to impress. Likewise for the rest of her face, which with its tiny nose, soft features, and puffy lips, was certainly of model quality. Likewise with her entire body, for that matter. She was clearly quite lean and in shape, and there was no mistaking the swell of breasts beneath the loose jacket she wore. "Look," she said, "I'm sorry for snapping the way I did. Outside." She used her palm to wipe away the tears in her eyes. "You were just trying to be helpful."

Bobby shrugged. "It's okay. You were right. I can't know."

"Still... your intentions were in the right place. Unlike that other guy."

"Yeah. Well. Look, you should know something," Bobby said.

The woman reached up and ran a hand through her neck-length hair, which was soaked all the way through, and in the light, looked kind of strawberry blonde. "What is it?" she asked.

"What I said out there? About my parents being able to drive you someplace?"

"Yeah?" She looked confused.

"Well... my parents aren't actually home. They're up in Ohio."

The woman knitted her brow. "So... you lied then?"

"Sort of. More to Gus than to you, though. I wanted him to go away."

"You know," the woman said, her face breaking into an uneasy smile. "That's a lie I can live with. I lied about having to go to the bathroom, so maybe we can just call it even."

"Yeah, but the point is... I can't actually take you anyplace. There's no car here."

She nodded. "Ah. And I'm guessing you're not old enough to drive anyway, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. Well that makes things trickier," she said.

"Is there somebody you can call to come pick you up?" Bobby asked.

The woman shook her head. "No. That's the even trickier part. I was just passing through. I'm actally from New Jersey, and I'm thinking about moving to Pittsburgh." Our sleepy little Pennsylvania town was smack between the two. "I have an interview there on Thursday. So anybody I know is a few hours away."

"And it's kind of late," I added.

"Exactly." She thought about it for a moment. "Is there a taxi service around here?"

"Not that I know of. Anyway, the nearest hotel is like twenty miles away."

This seemed to surprise her. "Twenty miles? But the exit sign said there was a hotel on this road."

"There used to be. It burned down last year, though. They should really change that sign."

The woman let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, they really should. Well... I guess it worked out for the best. If my car had broken down out on the interstate..." She faded off, seemed to get an image stuck in her mind, probably of Gus, then let out a barely noticeable shiver. Bobby noticed it. "Anyway. What now?"

Bobby didn't know what to tell her. "I guess... maybe I could call one of the neighbors, and see if they might be willing to take you someplace. Or maybe one of my mom's friends."

The woman seemed distressed by this idea. "I'd really hate to go pulling somebody out of their house in this kind of weather, just to go shlubbing me off to a hotel a half-hour away."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah." Another idea popped into his head, and he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. "I guess... I don't know... you could just stay here for the night. On the couch. If you want to."

Clearly, this idea hadn't occurred to the woman either. She took a moment to digest it. "Here?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not a big deal to me. And it's what my parents would tell you."

"Really? You don't think they'd mind? A stranger in their house?"

"No. They'd be cool with it. They're all about helping strangers."

She laughed at this. "Well, obviously they've raised you to be the same way."

Bobby shrugged, blushing. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," the woman said, smiling. "You were my hero tonight..." She paused. "You know, we've been talking all this time, and it occurs to me that I don't know your name yet."

"It's Bobby."

"Bobby, I'm Theresa. Pleased to meet you." She held out a well-manicured hand, and they shook. "And since you've been such a good guardian angel so far tonight, I think I might just take you up on your offer. If you're sure you don't mind. Far be it from me to cramp the style of a teenager whose parents are away."

"No, it's okay. I was just going to bed pretty soon anyway. When I get up in the morning, we can call down to Ray's and find out what's going on with your car. Any thoughts on what it might be?"

"I have no idea. Nothing minor, I'm sure."

Bobby took his wet jacket off, and hung it on the hook. He could feel a chill starting to creep through his body. "You know, you should probably get some dry clothes on," he said.

Theresa hung her head back. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"I was in such a hurry to get away from that creep. I wasn't even thinking. I left everything in the car. My purse. My suitcase. You don't think he'll go through any of it, do you?"

Bobby's first instinct was to say no. Gus wouldn't be that stupid, would he? But the more he thought about it... who knew for sure? The two of them rushed to the window, but sure enough, both the tow truck and the car were gone already. Gus had worked fast, probably to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

"Tell you what," Bobby said. "Let me try something." He went to the phone book, found Ray Fargus's home number, and dialed. Ray answered. "Mister Fargus? This is Bobby Allen, from down the road? Frank's son? Yeah. There's a lady here whose car Gus towed away just a little while ago. She forgot to take any of her stuff with her. Yeah. Yeah, her purse too. No, she's fine. No, you don't need to make Gus do that. She just wants to make sure nobody'll mess with her stuff. Yeah. Yeah, if you could do that, that would be great. Thanks. You too. Good night." He hung up.

"What did he say?" Theresa asked.

"Well, Ray lives right next door to the garage. He said when Gus gets there, he'll walk over and lock your stuff up in the office. I'm pretty sure he doesn't trust Gus more than anybody else does."

Theresa seemed visibly relieved. "Thank you so much," she said. "I swear, I feel like the world's biggest spaz today. I should have listened to my boyfriend when he told me to wait and leave tomorrow morning."

Bobby's heart sank a bit at the news that she had a boyfriend. This was a silly reaction on his part, of course, and he knew it. Hot or not, this was a woman twice his age, almost old enough to be his mother. He couldn't even seem to make time with girls his own age. What chance would he ever have with a class act like her?

"Well," she said. "Now what do I do for dry clothes?"

"I'm sure I can find something for you upstairs," Bobby said... but not until after the thought of making her walk around naked crossed his mind, and caused a brief stir in his jeans. Behave, he told himself. "We'll put your clothes in the dryer, and that way they'll be ready for you tomorrow morning."

"That would be great," Theresa replied. "Thank you so much. For everything. Really."

"It's not a problem at all," Bobby said, and headed for the stairs. "I'll be right back down."

Five minutes later, after rummaging through some of his mother's recently cleaned clothes, which she'd left in the laundry basket on the floor of their room, Bobby descended the stairs again. "Here you go," he said, and handed her a light blue t-shirt and a pair of green sweat pants, as well as some sheets, a blanket, a pillow for the couch, and a towel to dry off with. "My mom's kind of tiny, like five feet nothing, so I'm not sure if that stuff will fit you right. I didn't get any... um... underwear or anything... because..." Bobby started to blush hotly.

Quite matter-of-factly, Theresa said, smirking, "I doubt your mother wants a stranger wearing her underwear. I'm sure these will work just fine. Which way is the bathroom?"

"There's one down the hall there. On the left."

"Thanks." As she walked by him, Theresa stopped to give Bobby a quick and friendly kiss on the cheek. "You've really gone above and beyond, and I appreciate it." Then she disappeared down the hall.

Left behind with a sudden surge of adrenaline from her kiss, Bobby decided to go ahead and make the couch up into a bed. Who knew, if he was courteous enough, maybe she'd kiss him again. He chuckled at himself for this, but still couldn't get the notion out of his head. Yeah right, he thought, and then she'll give you a blowjob.

He was almost finished tucking the top sheet into the back of the couch when he heard Theresa clear her throat loudly behind him. Bobby turned, and was greeted to an interesting sight. "Something tells me," she joked, "that your mother is tinier than me in more ways that one." Sure enough, the t-shirt he'd chosen was more of the form-fitting rather than the loose-fitting variety, and on Theresa's form, it fit ridiculously tight. Unlike his A-cup mother, her breasts were more in the range of D or even DD -- it was hard to tell exactly. All he knew was that the shirt fit more more like a tube top than anything else, and through it, the outline of her chilled nipples protruded like wide spark plug points. Meanwhile, the green sweatpants rode up to mid-calf. Clearly, she had longer legs that his mother as well.

"Yikes," Bobby said, secretly thrilled at the way the shirt fit her ample chest. "Sorry about that. I'll go upstairs and see if I can find something else. Maybe one of my dad's --"

"It's fine," she replied, chuckling. "It's not cutting off my circulation or anything. I'll live."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm positive. It's just to sleep in. Here, let me finish making the couch up. You go do whatever you have to do. I'm a big girl," she said. Boy, was that ever the truth. "You don't need to wait on me hand and foot." The space between the couch and the coffee table was kind of slim, and as she moved to get past him, Theresa's boobs brushed his arm. All Bobby knew was that he was glad she hadn't brushed against his crotch instead. Because ever since he'd seen her in that shirt, a raging erection had formed down there, and only the jeans he wore were hiding it.

"Okay," he said, and started out of the room. "Do you... need to eat or anything? We have food."

Theresa smiled up at him, and seemed to think about it. "Hm. No, I guess not. If I eat, I'll probably never be able to fall asleep. I'm not all that hungry anyway."

"Okay then. Well... goodnight. I'll see you in the morning." He started toward the stairs.

"Oh, wait, Bobby?"

He turned on his heel, all too eagerly and expectantly. "Yes?"

"I left my wet things on the toilet seat in the bathroom."

"Oh. Right. I'll go put those in the dryer then."

"Thanks," she said again, then went back to unfolding the blanket.

Bobby changed course for the bathroom, instead of the stairs. The light was still on, and sure enough, there were her clothes on the toilet seat. He scooped them up, started out of the room, then paused. He glanced down the hall, made sure the coast was clear, ducked back in, then quickly picked her bra out of the pile and examined it. It was pink, and kind of frilly. He checked the tag -- Victoria's Secret, size 36DD. Sweet. Interestingly, though, when he looked for panties, he found none. Just a t-shirt, the denim skirt, a pair of socks, and her jacket. Bobby scanned the room quickly. Her sneakers were on the floor by the scale, but there was no sign of anything else.

He wasn't sure what to make of this. Either the ones she was wearing hadn't been that wet, and she was still wearing them, or... maybe she had never been wearing any at all? This made his imagination go wild. Before it could go too wild, however, Theresa herself suddenly appeared at the bathroom door. "Everything okay?" she asked.

"Fine," Bobby replied, a bit flustered. "Just making sure I had everything."

Theresa scanned the room as well. "Looks like it."

"Right. Well then I'll just go... put these in the dryer."

She stepped aside, so he could get by. "Thanks. You're a sweetheart."

Bobby copped one last peek at her huge tits in the tiny shirt. "You're welcome." Then he stumbled mindlessly back down the hall and around to the kitchen, behind which was the laundry room. He took advantage of his one last opportunity to examine the bra, then even held it momentarily up to his face and smelled it. Her perfume scent on it was strong, perhaps as a result of being wet. He wondered if this was what her boobs smelled like. Part of him wished he could sneak the bra upstairs with him, and use it as "incentive" while he jerked off -- which he would definitely be doing tonight. But no, there really was no way, because then he'd have to sneak it back down again later... and the house was just too creaky to pull off that kind of covert operation. So he settled for sniffing it one last time. Then he tossed everything into the dryer, set the knob, and hit the start button.

Once in bed, wearing only his boxers (as always), Bobby reached into the drawer of his night stand and found the bottle of hand lotion there. Then he slid his boxers down, revealing his already stiff 5-inch member. Thinking of Theresa in the tiny shirt, and trying to imagine what she looked like naked, he squeezed some lotion into his hand and eased it onto his erection. Her tits must look amazing, he thought, and began to stroke himself slowly. How lucky must her boyfriend be, to get to have sex with somebody like that whenever he wants. Bobby's hand picked up speed. He imagined Theresa smothering him with her big tits, rubbing them all over him, in his face, down his chest, wrapping them around his dick, then sucking him off. Faster, he stroked. It felt so great.

There was a flash of lightning in the window, follow almost immediately by a loud crack of thunder. Damn, he thought, that was pretty close. It startled him enough, in fact, that he stopped his hand for a moment, and lost track of where he'd been in his fantasy. Theresa. Tits. Oh yeah, the blowjob. He began to stroke again.

A few moments later, there was another loud sound. This time in the hallway. Somebody -- Theresa? -- was pounding on his parents' bedroom door, saying his name. "Bobby?" She sounded panicked. When she got no answer, she moved across the hall to his door and pounded on it instead. "Bobby?" Shit, he thought, and quickly tossed the lotion back into the drawer, then pulled his boxers up. "Bobby, are you in there?"

"I'm here," he said, and jumped out of bed, turning the light on.

Theresa tried the knob, but it was locked. He always locked the door to his bedroom. At his age, jerking off as often as he did, he really didn't want to invite surprise walk-ins.

"Hold on," Bobby said. "I'll be right there." He saw his jeans on the floor, and quickly tugged them on, then padded across the room to the door. The moment he'd unlocked it, Theresa burst in. She was crying.

"What's wrong?" Bobby said.

Without warning, she leapt at him, grabbed him in a hug, and started rambling. "I was starting to fall asleep, and there was the thunder, and I thought it was somebody trying to bang the door down."

"But... it wasn't... it was just thunder."

She pulled away, then glared at him. "I know that. I'm not stupid."

"Sorry. But... who did you think it was? Gus?"

She shrugged, sniffling. "I don't know. Maybe. Or somebody else."

Bobby tried to decide if she was crazy, and if it had maybe been a bad idea to invite her into the house. He didn't really think she was, though. A little on edge maybe, from everything that had happened -- driving in the rain, her car breaking down, Gus harassing her. She certainly wasn't having the best night.

"I'm being silly, I know," she said. "I'm acting like a big baby."

"Well... everybody has a right to act like a baby sometimes, I guess. Every time I have to go to the dentist, I act like one for like three or four days afterward. Maybe you're just... I don't know, freaked out."

Theresa laughed at this. "Yes. I guess I am a little freaked out. It's a strange house, with strange noises. The rain." She paused, and seemed to chew over something in her mind. "The fact is, what happened with that... Gus earlier kind of hit a bad chord with me. I had a couple of bad incidents in college like that. And one other time, last year, when I was still living in New York City. Really bad... moments." She faded off.

"What happened?" he asked. "Did somebody... you know..."

"Rape me?" she replied. "Only once. It was a long time ago, though. Or it seems like it was. When something happens like what happened out there tonight, it doesn't seem as long ago."

"I'm sorry," Bobby said, yet again.

"What are you sorry for? You didn't do it." She laughed nervously.

"Yeah, but... you know. I'm sorry it happened."

"Yes. Well. Things happen." As her tears slowed to a trickle, Theresa wiped at her eyes with her fingers. "Look, Bobby, I need to ask you something. And I want you to make sure you're honest with me if the answer is no. Okay? Don't just say yes because your parents raised you to be a good host?"

"Um. Okay. I will. What is it?"

"The thing is," she said, her expression sad, "I really don't want to sleep down on that couch."

"Oh. Well, I guess you can sleep in my parents' bed if you want."

"I don't want to sleep there either."

Now Bobby was confused. "Well... you can have my bed then, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Bobby, you're missing the point. I'm afraid. I don't want to sleep alone right now."

"Oh." What she was saying sunk in. "Oh! You mean... you want to sleep in my bed? With me?"

"Unless you've got a big dog you're hiding around here." She smiled weakly. "That would work too."

Bobby shook his head. "No. No dogs. Just me."

"So, would you mind?" Theresa asked. "I promise I won't steal all the covers."

Bobby laughed, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the bed. He'd inherited his parents' queen size when they upgraded to a king size a few months ago. So there was room enough. "Um. I guess. Sure."

"Thank you so much," Theresa said. "I know it's stupid. But it's the only way I'll be able to sleep." Again, as she walked by him, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek. As long as you keep doing that, Bobby thought, I'll do whatever you want. She paused at the foot of the bed. "Which side do you sleep on?" she asked.

"Right in the middle most of the time, actually." He chuckled to himself. "But tonight... this side, I guess." He pointed to the side of the bed where the night stand -- and his hand lotion -- was. Oh well, he thought, so much for finishing up that jerk-off session before he went to sleep tonight.

Theresa went to the other side. "You're not going to roll over on top of me in the middle of the night are you?"

Bobby ran with the joke. "I make no promises."

This is unreal, he thought, as he stood by the side of the bed and watched Theresa and her huge boobs slide under the cover sheet -- it was really too warm for a blanket this time of year, until it got to be the wee hours of the morning, so he kept the blanket down at the foot of the bed for easy access later on.

Far too late, Bobby realized he'd made a mistake when he looked at her chest. The erection in his pants that had begun to dry up while he was talking to Theresa suddenly reconstituted itself. And here she was looking right at him. Thinking fast, he turned his back to her, turned the light off, unzipped his jeans, and slid them down and off. Then, as gracefully as he could, he sat down fast and slid under the sheet. He wasn't sure if she'd seen it or not. The room was pretty dark without a light, and her eyes shouldn't have been able to adjust fast enough.

"Well," he said, rolling from his back over to his side, so that he'd be facing away from Theresa. He didn't want to take a chance that his hard-on would be visible as a tent under the thin sheet. "Good night."

"Good night, Bobby. Sweet dreams." Try wet dreams, he thought. If he could ever sleep, that is. He'd really been counting on that jerk-off session to calm him down. There were so many thoughts in his head lately. Not the least of which were insanely hormone-enraged thoughts of busty women like the one beside him.

As if reading his mind, Theresa's voice rose out of the darkness. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are your parents in Ohio tonight?" she asked.

"They have been for a week or so. My grandfather is really sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that." There was genuine sympathy in her voice. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Liver problems. Kidney problems. Lung problems. Just... old age mostly."

"Are they afraid he won't make it? Is that why they went?"

"Yeah." Bobby felt both awkward and relieved to be talking about this with somebody.

"My mother passed away less than a year ago," Theresa said. "She had colon cancer."