Thrice Rescued - Sex Stories

Thrice Rescued

... the center aisle and introduced myself to the woman. "Hi, I'm Davie Derr."

She stared at me, saying nothing. I went on, "If we're going to be lab partners, we'll need to exchange contact information. If you'll give me your name and phone number, I'll give you my info."

She continued to stare.

"Miss, we need to do this. Please. I don't bite and I promise not to share it."

Finally, she said, "My name is Vera McDonald. My telephone number is 555-555-1212." She then gave me her email address as well. I did the same, then told her I'd see her at the lab session and went on to my next class.

Vera turned out to be a bit of a strange duck. She had the highest, thickest walls around her that I think I'd ever encountered in a person. Getting to know her was like trying to chisel granite with a plastic spoon. We'd gone through most of the semester without her disclosing a single fact about herself despite spending three hours a week together in the biology lab. I'd tried without success to breach those walls, finally just giving up when it became clear that she would never open up. Then, shortly before Thanksgiving break, I was talking to one of the guys at the next lab station about our respective plans when Vera walked in.

"What are you doing over the break?" he'd asked.

"I'll be staying at my apartment for most of it trying to get a leg up on next semester's workload. I'll probably go to my foster parents' house for Thanksgiving Day, then come back here. They ...

... live about an hour away and I haven't seen them since school started."

Vera had come to a sudden stop as I mentioned "foster parents." She looked at me and said, "Are you a foster kid, too?"

Suddenly, it all fell into place. I knew what a trial foster care had been for me, and I'd lucked out being male and ending up with the Hopkins. I had seen some of the horrors visited upon female foster children, particularly the ones who were attractive. Vera tried to hide it with the baggy clothing she typically wore, but I'd noticed that she was a good-looking girl. Had the wall not been there, I'd already have asked her out. Since this was the first time she'd opened even the tiniest crack in her armor, I approached carefully. "I was in foster care from age 6 to age 18. I was in 13 foster homes. The last one was for four years. I consider Gunny and Mrs. Hopkins as my parents, even though they never adopted me." Vera said, "I went into foster care at age 2. My dad had disappeared. My mom died of cancer. I didn't have any relatives who were willing to take me in. It wasn't a pleasant experience. I bounced around like a pinball. I was lucky to get out of the system and not end up in jail. Fortunately, I had teachers who watched out for me and a decent caseworker. They got me the scholarship to attend here. I'm majoring in accounting. I plan to find a job that will provide me with the maximum financial security that I can get with an accounting degree. I figure the world will always ...