FRANCES' BIG ADVENTURE
Chapter Three
Frances didn't usually curse but she used every bad word she could think of several times as she walked towards the house. She was freezing, her body solid goosebumps, her nipples hard pink lumps. She yelped as she stepped on yet another rock. "Ow! Son of a bitch!" she yelled, hopping on her other foot and almost falling down. The rocks here felt sharp and she was sure her feet were bleeding, but she kept going.
At last she left the rocks and started walking along a dirt road, which the rain had turned to mud. It was disgusting but at least she wasn't hurting her feet anymore stepping on pebbles. The rain slowed down a little, then suddenly got worse again. She yelled as something hard hit her in the head. Oh hell, it was hail! Hailstones kept hitting her upside the head and whacking her on her feet and shoulders and arms. Some hit her on the butt and made her jump and some hit her boobs. It stopped soon but she was now sore as hell all over her body.
Finally she reached the front steps of the house. It was old and looked like something in a horror movie. With her luck a guy with a knife would answer the door. But she was so miserable right now she didn't care about anything but getting out of the rain and lying down. She staggered up the steps like she was drunk and leaned on the door to knock. She placed one arm across her boobs and her other hand over her bush as she waited. The way she felt she might just let whoever opened the door fuck her if they let her get dried off and lie down first. If they didn't mind fucking somebody half dead.
The door was opened by a little old lady with white hair. Well, at least she wasn't likely to try to rape her. She tried to say something but only a little squeal came out.
"Oh, my goodness!" the old woman cried. "You must have been in a terrible accident! Come on, young lady! Step inside my house!"
Frances cleared her throat. "I don't want to…drip all over your…floor, Ma'am," she said in a froggy voice that told her she was coming down with something."
"Nonsense," the old woman said, placing a hand on her back and taking her wrist with her other hand. She led Frances inside and brought her over to her fireplace. Frances sobbed as she rubbed her numb fingers together over the fire. She thought she'd never feel warm again.
The old lady started drying Frances off with a big old towel, rubbing her all over. Now Frances was wondering if maybe she was going to get raped after all. Especially when the woman said, "My, my, such a pretty young lady you are! Such a lovely body! And a natural redhead! How did you end up at my home like this? Did your boyfriend drive off and take your clothes with him? Or are you one of those nudists I've heard of?"
Frances took the towel from her and finished drying herself. Maybe the old woman just didn't understand what personal space was. She sounded kind of weird, senile maybe. "I was swimming and my bathing suit came off in the water," she said, clearing her throat again. "May I have something to wear, please, and use your telephone to call someone to come and get me? I'll pay you."
"Nonsense," the old woman said, walking through the room towards a doorway. It was dark in the old house and Frances couldn't see what was in the next room. "Anybody would help out a poor unfortunate lost in a storm. I'll bring you some dry things, but I'm afraid there's no phone. Or electricity. I live very simply here, me and my son."
Her son, Frances thought. She hoped he didn't show up until after she put something on. But no phone? That meant she'd have to walk all the way to civilization and there was no way she could do that tonight. She had no choice but to ask to spend the night there, and hope this son didn't try anything.
Suddenly something covered her eyes. Frances jumped and yelled. But then the cloth was pulled down past her face and she realized the old lady had come up behind her and put a nightgown on her. "You scared me!" she cried.
"Goodness, you young people are so excitable," the old woman said, helping Frances put her arms through the short sleeves. It was old fashioned and just came to about mid-thigh. Frances noticed that was the only thing she'd brought her. No panties. And the gown was short enough she'd probably expose herself if she held her arms over her head.
"What a beautiful young lady you are," the old woman said, looking her over like a butcher looking at a pig. "Are you married? Engaged?"
Frances shook her head. "No," she admitted. "I'm not seeing anybody right now."
The old woman grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Perfect!" she said. "My son will just love to meet you when he comes home!"
"Oh, but I can't stay," Frances said quickly, something telling her that she'd be safer out in the rain. "I really have to get back home, my family will be worried about me."
"My son will take you home when he returns," the old woman insisted. "I have no car and never bothered to get one of those driver license things so you'll just have to wait for him to come home."
"I'm sure I can walk to a bus station or something," Frances said. "I don't want to be a bother…"
"Oh, it's no bother at all," the old woman said, taking her wrist again. "And I really do insist, dearie. Now, let's get you to your room. I'm sure you'll fell much better after a nice long rest." Why had she accented the word long? Frances didn't like this at all, but she was too exhausted to fight the old woman and get very far. So she allowed the woman to lead her up the old stairs to the second floor. There were a couple of candles set into metal brackets along the hallway that provided the only light. They passed a closed door, then the old lady led her to the next door, which was open, and inside of a small bedroom..
"Here you are," the old woman said, fixing up an old bed with a canopy. A wardrobe and an old rug were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. The old woman pulled down the quilt covering the bed and helped Frances climb in. The bed was kind of hard and the sheet was a bit dusty, but Frances realized she was too tired to care. She was cold and sore all over and suddenly realized she really needed some rest. How long had she walked? She had no watch and hadn't seen a clock in the living room.
"I'm sorry," the old woman said, tucking her in. "I try to keep the house clean but there's only the two of us, and my son doesn't do housework. And the rest of the house has been empty for so long I haven't done a good cleaning in quite awhile."
"That's okay," Frances said, trying to stay awake. "I don't mind."
"I'll come back and look in on you later, dearie," the old woman said, patting her on the head. She smiled as she walked to the door. She closed it behind her, putting the room into total darkness except for the dim light from the full moon through the curtain. Frances thought she should get up and put the wardrobe in front of the door, in case the son came back and decided to have his way with her, but she was so tired she thought she'd rest her eyes for a minute.
Something woke her up. A scream of pain? Where was she? Oh right, the old lady's home. She hadn't thought she would fall asleep so easy in such a creepy place. But who screamed and why? She looked around the dark room. As she looked at the door in the dim moonlight, she noticed the doorknob was turning…