Dog Who Owned Me
My life changed on a Friday, just after I'd turned eighteen and recently
moved into a new life. That's how I liked to think of it. After leaving
the modest village where I'd grown up, I'd moved to the modest town
where I'd be attending community college. I wanted to be a graphic
artist or something, I wasn't really sure, but I liked art and I was
kind of good at it anyway. So those were the kind of classes I took
while I worked part-time at Sears, dressing mannequins and putting up
decorations and displays, stuff like that.
It wasn't a bad job, even if it only paid for my rent and just enough food to keep me from starving. My parents sent me a little every month and I'd be okay, except I was lonely. I mean, it was a new town and I didn't really know anyone except my landlady. She was an older woman, divorced, and renting out the small apartment above her garage. It wasn't much, but I could afford it and the hard part had been convincing her to let me have the place.
It wasn't a bad job, even if it only paid for my rent and just enough food to keep me from starving. My parents sent me a little every month and I'd be okay, except I was lonely. I mean, it was a new town and I didn't really know anyone except my landlady. She was an older woman, divorced, and renting out the small apartment above her garage. It wasn't much, but I could afford it and the hard part had been convincing her to let me have the place.
"You're not a hussy, are you?" she'd asked me, and I'd blinked and reddened and wondered how anyone could be that rude.
"N-No ma'am," I stammered. "I'm, uh ... I've never ... I don't..."
"Hmph," she snorted, looking me up and down.
I found myself wishing I'd worn something other than my ragged cut-offs and the little pink t-shirt that showed off my belly button. This had been during the summer though, the dog days of August, and just standing in the shade of her front porch had been hot enough to make me sweat. I sure wasn't going to walk around town dressed in my Sunday best and it wasn't my fault that I'd grown up to be more than a little attractive to most folks. My landlady, the Widow Perkins, was the sort of old woman who found that suspicious, like beautiful was just trouble waiting to happen.
"I'm a virgin," I'd confessed later that long afternoon, blushing all the more because a thing like that wasn't anyone's business but my own. "I don't even have a boyfriend anymore."
"What happened to him?" the Widow asked, peering down her nose with cold, grey eyes like I might have buried him in my backyard.
"He joined the army," I answered, quite truthfully. "They closed the mill and there aren't a lot of jobs back home, so..."
"You look like a hussy to me," she declared. "I'm not surprised the boy run off."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am." I looked down and frowned at my rather large, firm breasts and kicked myself mentally for not wearing a bra at least. "I guess I'll be going and, um ... Thank you for the lemonade and everything."
"Hold on now, Missy..." The old women had changed her mind, perhaps realizing that I really wasn't any sort of hussy at all, but only a girl fresh out of high school looking for a chance.
"Thank you so much." I smiled and signed the simple rental agreement half an hour later, giving Mrs. Perkins very nearly all the cash I'd brought with me. I wouldn't be moving in yet, I'd go back home and get my things first, but I was moving for sure and I felt pretty nervous and somewhat relieved.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you," she warned me. "And you'd best keep an eye on some of the boys around here."
"Ma'am?"
"You might want to cover yourself up some," the Widow said with a cluck of her tongue, looking up and down my long legs which just as tanned and toned as the rest of me.
"Yes, Ma'am." I nodded seriously, pulling some blonde hair out of my blue eyes.
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