IPB-129 Naked and Helpless by Author Unknown


Chapter 1


The spring sunshine was bright and the flirtatious west wind brought a 
whiff of salt air to her nostrils as Jill Conklin stepped out the door 
of the garrish pink stucco house on Bay Street and headed down the hill 
towards Aquatic Park, a battered wooden paint box and large sketch pad 
under one arm, a webbed folding chair and wooden stool under the other 
one. She felt an exuberance bubbling through her young body and a 
curious sense of anticipation, as though something were about to 
happen. She had felt it since she first awoke in the musty, rose 
wallpapered room she rented in the eccentric widow's home. Josephine 
was a "character," a non-stop talker who was into metaphysical digests 
and painting rocks for her baroque garden, but the rent was dirt cheap 
-- fifty bucks a month -- and Jill had kitchen privileges. Fortunately, 
Josephine retired to her own bedroom at 7:00 each night with a vintage 
Zenith black and white television set, so the young girl was spared 
hours of occult monologues -- no one ever conversed with Josephine; one 
listened and nodded one's head.

Still, it was somewhat depressing being in the house, whose furnishings 
were redolent with time. The grand piano was sadly out of tune; the 
brocade divan was never sat upon. Josephine lived in the kitchen, where 
the gas stove provided the only heat in the house. For one so old, she 
apparently had good circulation. Jill nearly froze to death, and had to 
wear warm socks and flannel nightgowns to bed. At times, her fingers 
got so cold she could barely sketch, until she found a cheap old 
electric heater for $4.00 at a garage sale and ecstatically lugged it 
home. Josephine seemed almost hurt!

Now, as she walked purposefully past Ghirardelli Square, she felt 
relieved to be away from her often lonely and tomblike digs. The sun 
caressed her young scrubbed face, her glossy long brunette waves and 
the alluring curves of her nubile eighteen year old body. She couldn't 
fail to notice the admiring looks she drew from both men and women, as 
she strode proudly down the hill, her pert, braless breasts jostling 
provocatively under a saffron yellow tank top, and the ripe mounds of 
her buttocks swaying deliciously in the skin-tight, paint-spattered 
jeans.

There were street musicians, magicians, tourists, peddlers of every 
sort and couples walking hand in hand. They all paid tribute to her 
with their eyes, and some spoke to her with comments and suggestions -- 
both clean and dirty. She had grown accustomed to this sort of 
attention, and fielded both looks and remarks with aplomb. It was great 
for the ego and yet, she knew how lonely she really was being a young 
girl away from home, away from Chris and very much alone in San 
Francisco. The couples who sat sprawled on the sloping green of the 
park gave her a pang of remorse, as she remembered Chris ... and those 
wickedly exquisite nights in her bedroom in Kansas City ...


End of Page 1. See ipb-129.txt for full story.