The rain was washing against the window shutters as it had for the last couple of days. The cold and depressing weather added to the hopeless mood that Mark Cockwidth was filled with. He was sitting in his kitchen wondering whether he should again drown his sorrows with a bottle of vodka as he had done some days ago. Not that this had been the first time - he had done this too often during the last months, much too often since his wife has left him.

His glance locked again with the slim, clear bottle which was sitting on the table. It urged him, whispered silent promises of easy oblivion. But he still resisted. He did not want to become a captive of alcohol, one of those run-down figures he had always despised all his life. This would certainly be the last triumph for both his wife and his daughter to see him becoming a worthless piece of junk, living from the refuse of society, begging for a piece of money to buy some cheap booze, himself nothing more than a reject of humanity. He felt again the hatred creeping up in him, like he had felt it the last year when Dorothy and Susan had tried to top each other in the insults they showered him with. Why? He had never understood. They had been such a happy family. Of course, he had to work quite a lot to pay for the house, to cover up all their debts and to allow them a good standard of living. At times he had worked up to fourteen hours a day, even on the weekend. But he had done it for them. And what for, after all? To be left alone when he thought that the worst was over. Most of their debts had been paid back; the house was his after all. And during all this time, his wife has had a lover, some greasy, slimy piece of shit. He had never suspected anything. And his daughter had known it! The three of them had played happy family during all the time when he was struggling for a living. Visiting nice restaurants, going to the movies - even some short weekend trips. How sarcastic both had been when they finally had told him. Told him what a loser he was, what an idiot! He could have killed them both at this moment. But he had done nothing. Had only listened without understanding.

The bottle was still there, luring him, calling to him. He was fighting with himself, loosing, loosing every second a little bit more. Soon, he knew, he would fetch himself a glass and then the next morning he would be lying totally drunk in the kitchen. But who cares? It would be Saturday anyway. No need to go to the office. No need to face the pitying glances of his colleagues. His hand reached out for the bottle.

The sharp sound of the door bell interrupted his move. His glance fell at the big kitchen watch that was hanging on the wall. It was almost eight pm. Fuck off! He didn't expect anybody at this time. Actually, he didn't expect anybody at all ringing at his door. He wanted to be alone, alone in his misery, undisturbed by the outside world. His hand reached for the bottle. The bell was ringing again. This time more urgently, two - three times. With a deep sigh he started for the door.

The bulb of the lamp outside the door had been broken some time ago, so it took some time for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The figure outside was small, and at a second glance he decided that it must be a young girl that was standing there. Here long wet hair was sticking to her face, she was wearing a green, washed-out parka, jeans and short boots. On her back she was carrying a small back-pack; her arms clutched firmly a bulging plastic bag. Frightened she starred at Mark Cockwidth.

"What do you want?" Mark uttered unfriendly.

"Mr. Cockwidth? Can I speak to Susan?"

"Who are you? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Mark Cockwidth eyed the girl suspiciously. She looked raggedly, uncombed, desperate. "Please, I have to speak to Susan. I'm Mary. Mary Fisher. Please. Me and Susan had been friends. Don't you remember me?"

The girl looked at him with pleading eyes. Yes, he remembered her now. She had lived only some streets away, and she and Susan had played quite often together. Not that they had been friends in the strict sense of the word. But both had been loners, even though for different reasons: Susan was much too arrogant and in need of control for other girls to care for her. Mary - as he now recalled - had been an easy prey for his daughter. Her parents did not have much money, she was often clad in second hand clothes, could not keep up with the latest gadget and toys that the other kids boasted with. As he recalled now, at that time he had often got the feeling that her parents beat her regularly. The girl had been very shy, reclusive. But then, some years ago, Mary's parents had moved to another town and he had not heard of her any more. He eyed her again. Some dark desire was building up inside him, a means to satisfy the urges of hatred and revenge.

"Come in". He closed the door behind her. Now, in the light of the room he could observe her much better. She was surely in a pitiable state. She must have been in the rain and cold for the whole day, soaked to the skin, her body trembling, the lips blue.

"You still did not explain what you were doing in the middle of the night outside, looking the way you are. Do your parents know that you're here?"

The girl defiantly kept her mouth shut.

"Listen, if you don't explain yourself, I'll call the police. Do you want that?" Mary's glance went nervously to the door, but Mark has positioned himself between the door and the girl, to make any escape impossible. Desperately she shook her head.

"No, please".

"You've run away from home?" It was more of a statement than a question. The girl nodded. "Why have you come here?"

"I don't really know. I was wandering around and suddenly I remembered this town. I thought of Susan and that we had been close friends. I thought maybe she could help me ..."

"So, nobody knows that you're here?"

The girl shook her head.

"Susan's currently not at home so she can't help you. But I won't fiddle in you affairs. I can only give you the advice to return to your parents. But if you don't want ... It's your life. For the time being, if you need some help ... Do you want something to eat?" He led the girl to the kitchen. "Take off your coat and shoes and put your bags somewhere. No need to carry them around. Nobody will carry them away".

Mark grinned. He was feeling better and better every second. He took a glass and filled it with Coke and vodka.

"Here, drink this. This will warm you." The girl grimaced but he urged her to drink the glass. Under her coat she was wearing only a thin sweater that was also completely soaked. It was clutching at her skin and clearly showed the slim form of her body and the small, firm breasts. If she was the same age as Susan, she must now have fifteen years. Shivering she sat on the kitchen chair, trying to get warm. Water was dripping from her long, black hair and she rubbed her cold feet at each other. Pleadingly she looked at Mark.

"You won't call my parents? Please, I don't want to go back".

Mark smiled "I promise. I won't tell anybody that you're here. As I said, it's your life." The girl had finished her drink and was looking at Mark with some newfound hope.

"Now I propose that you will take a hot bath so that you get warm again. In the meantime I'll prepare something to eat for you". Mark guided her to the bathroom on the first floor and opened the taps. Hot water was streaming in the tub. The bathroom was small, one basin in the front, the tub to the right and the toilet at the back. Mary was plunging heavily on the small stool standing in the middle of the bathroom. Obviously, the alcohol was taking its toll.

"I'll leave you now. Take your time". Mark left the bathroom and closed the door. Outside he immediately kneeled and peeked through the keyhole. He could not see much, only that the girl started to undress. But just the glimmer of her naked flesh was sufficient to make his cock rock-hard. It took all his will to restrain himself. When he heard her entering the bathtub, he left to look for some towels and a bath robe, giving him a good excuse to enter the bathroom again. Mary turned red when he suddenly stood before the bathtub, smiling broadly. She firmly closed her legs and hid her chest with crossed arms.

"Here, I've brought you some towels and a bathrobe of Susan. Hope it fits. I'll put your clothes into the washing machine. Take your time. I'll wait for you in the kitchen". He was grinning inwardly. The bathrobe had already been too small for Susan two years ago, that was the reason why it was still here. And Susan was a little bit smaller than this girl. Should be quite an exciting picture.

He hurried back to the kitchen. The fridge was almost empty: Some slices of bread, a bit of cheese and a couple of eggs were the only inhabitants that were still in a consumable state. Some time later the eggs were sizzling in the pan, and the table was prepared with a bottle of wine for his special guest. He had used quite an amount of salt and pepper on the eggs, so the girl would become quite thirsty. Mark was getting impatient.

"Mary, the meal's getting cold! Please come down" Mark went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. "Mary! Everything OK?"

"Yes. I'm almost finished. I'm coming". The girl hurried up and Mark heard the buzzing sound of the hair dryer starting.

Mark was waiting in the kitchen when Mary finally appeared in the doorstep of the kitchen, nervously trying to hide her body in the much too small bathrobe. Its lower border was just reaching to the middle of the thighs, the sleeves were jamming the forearms and Mary had to hold the front close with both hands so that it would not expose her breasts. With every move the robe parted at her hips and Mark could see a glimpse of her black pubic hair. Mark pretended not to notice and guided her to the chair at the top of the table. He himself took place left to her.

"I've to apologize that I don't have much to offer to you. I didn't expect any guests. I hope that you like the wine. I've reserved it for a special moment." Mark studied the girl attentively. Her long black hair that was a nice contrast to her white skin. Her body was slim, fragile and her dark eyes were emphasized by the deep dark circles around them. It must have been quite some time since she had been sleeping in a soft bed and eaten a decent meal.

The girl attacked the plate fervently and wolfed down all the food with a great appetite. Even if she didn't like the wine too much - Mark told her that regrettably, no, he didn't have any juice or mineral water any more - thirsty as she was she drank too much of it. After some time she started to giggle and laugh about Marks silly jokes, and did not pay attention on the bathrobe any more that was now diverging widely, clearly showing her little, firm breasts and her slim, young body.

"Let's go to the living room." Mark suggested. "It's much more comfortable there." Mary tried to rise from her chair, but immediately dropped back, giggling foolishly.

"I think I had too much to drink." Mark approached her and reached for her arm.

"Let me help you". He put his right arm around her waist and guided her to the living room. The living room was the biggest room in the house. It had been the refuge of his wife who had spent endless hours watching TV or chatting with her insupportable friends. A huge TV set was taking much of the space of one of its walls. Opposite to it an L-shaped leather couch stretched across the tiled floor together. Next to it, on either side stood a low table on which one could place ones beverages. An armchair completed the scenery. On the right hand wall, towards the house, there was a shelf unit filled with books and porcelain statues, crystal decanters and more futile stuff. A large sliding door allowed the access to the terrace and the garden. Everything was held in a white color.

Mark did not care much for this room. It was much too sterile, too clean, cold. The only thing he really liked was the woolen, fluffy carpet in front of the couch. Years ago, when Susan had been much younger, he sometimes lay down on it, she resting her body on his, enjoying his caresses.

Mark pushed the memories from his mind and concentrated on the young girl next to him. Her steps were a little bit unsure and she leant heavily in his arm. Mark switched on the lights and dimmed them down to what he believed to be a romantic illumination. Slowly, he guided the girl to the couch where she dropped down heavily, throwing her head back, and letting out a deep breath. She tried to close her bathrobe, but it always slipped back, revealing her breasts and the dark spot between her legs that marked her pubic hair. Mary giggled, her arms fell to her sides and she gave Mark a sly smile. He lowered himself next to her, putting his right arm around her shoulders. The girl looked up to him.

"You are very nice to me." She was speaking very slowly, her voice heavy from the alcohol. "Nobody has ever been nice to me." Her mood change abruptly and she started to cry. "My parents always call me bad names and my father beats me senseless when he is drunk. Everybody hates me." She covered hear face with the hands and sobbed. "I don't want to live anymore. I want to die - die - die - die!"

She suddenly looked at him, clenching her fists.

"I hate them - I hate them all. Everybody likes to make me suffer. I can't stand it any longer." Her body slumped forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, her head covered by her hands. She sobbed uncontrollably. Mark put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her tenderly upwards. Mary looked at him, tears running down her cheeks.

"Please, don't send me back. I have nowhere to go. I'm so alone."

"Shh, calm down." Mark began to caress her head. "Don't be afraid. You can stay here as long as you wish." His hand wandered lightly over her cheeks, down her throat, brushing over her tiny breasts until he reached her stomach. He started to caress her thighs. Her skin was soft and very light. A couple of blue veins were faintly visible on her body. He could also discern some bruises on her arms and thighs, as well as some fresh welts across her breasts.

The borders of the bathrobe had completely slit to either side of her body, and with a sigh she pulled her arms out of the sleeves.

"It's of no use anyway" she explained apologetically. The, the girl closed her eyes and her face relaxed. She seemed lost in some distant reverie. Mark marveled at her body. Her black pubic hair was in a stark contrast to her skin, as were the tiny, dark nipples on her breasts which were pointing firmly, erect into the air. The girl started slowly to breath more heavily, her eyes were suddenly opened wide. Her legs parted slowly as if by their own will.

"Please, what are you doing?" she whispered. "Please, don't. This is not right." She shook her head, but then his lips found hers and his tongue pushed into her open mouth. The girls struggled momentarily and tried to close her legs, but Mark was much too strong for her. Her struggles subsided, and she was eagerly responding to his kiss. Mark's probing fingers found the entrance to her vagina. The girl was already incredible wet. Mark began to rub the tip of her clit tenderly and Mary groaned softly. Her hips began to move up and down in an ever more violent rhythm. She had closed her eyes again; she was breathing now in short, deep gasps. Her arms lay by her sides, fists so tightly clenched that they were shaking erratically. Mark bent forward and sucked firmly on her right breast while tenderly nibbling on her nipple.

Suddenly, her body went rigid; she pushed her hips spasmodically into the air and let out a high-pitched scream. After that, she fell back, her head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed, mouth opened. Her chest moved up and down in accordance to the short rhythm of her breathing. Then, she opened her eyes and stared at him with a mixture of wonder and some sort of primal, feral arousal.

Mark rose and tore the clothes from his body. The girl did neither shrink back nor protest. She rested on the couch, legs still wide opened, breathing heavily and watching, watching, watching, with the same ferocious look in her eyes. Her gaze seemed to focus on a particular spot on his body, right between his thighs. She was staring at his cock which was pointing upwards like a small flag post, a tiny drop of precum already on its tip. Her lips parted and her tongue touched her lips. Her gaze was now that of a frantic animal, an undisguised look of wild, insatiable hunger.

Mark picked the girl up and placed her on the white, fluffy carpet on the floor. On all fours, he crawled on top of her, kissing her cheeks, her lips, caressing her throat with his tongue, sucking on her nipples. His cock pressed against her fuckhole. He felt her hands on his buttocks, parting the checks, touching the shaft of his cock. Unsure at first, then ever more determined, almost possessive. She guided him between her legs, towards her wet, dripping cunt. Her pussy lips parted and he felt the strong counterpressure of her body. His cock slipped in just a little bit until it was stopped by her hymen. Still Mary pressed on, and with a sudden rush Mark pushed himself into her. The girl let out a shrill scream and her fingernails tore violently into his back.

Mark was no longer conscious of what he was doing. They both were like wild animals, lost in the act of copulation. He was fucking her, brutally pushing his cock into her cunt. Blood was dripping out of it, mixed with her body fluids. Mary was screaming; he could not tell whether of pleasure or pain - or both? She was clinging to him; her fingernails were still tearing at his back, his arms, his side. She was biting him, his lips, his breasts, his nipples. At one time, she sank her teeth so deeply into his left shoulder that it left a visible, bleeding bite mark. Mark did not even notice but continued to fuck her violently each thrust throwing her head back towards the floor.

Then, with a violent spasm he let out a loud scream and pumped his load into her battered cunt. Blood and semen were leaking out of it, down her thighs staining the carpet which was by now soaked with their sweat. Completely exhausted, Mark rolled to his side. His whole body was bruised, hurting - but it was hurting strangely pleasant. The girl snuggled against his side and whispered into his ear "Never, ever leave me alone. Or I'll kill you."

Strangely, Mark believed her. A strange transformation had come over this girl. She was no longer this shy, timid girl that stood frightened before his door. It was as if a chained animal had been unexpectedly released from a long, humiliating imprisonment, had experienced its power, its freedom and was determined never to be chained again. Mark closed his eyes and relished the soft, tender skin that was pressed against his. He listened to her easy breathing, smelled the odor of her young body. None of them moved. Moments later, he was fast asleep.