Picked Up From The Ashes And Given A Home

I am thinking of those people in California. Out of the ashes, sort of thing. You see, that was me once. Caught out in the cold with nothing on but a tee and panties, barefoot in the snow, as the house burned down to the ground. The man that stopped and saw me there, shivering, brought a coat to put around me and literally picked me up in his arms and carried me to his car. Where it was warm. He brushed my hair out of my face, checked me over carefully for any injuries or burns. After the house was put out, and there was nothing but ashes, he took me home with him.

He was divorced, or technically separated, and he called his wife to come over to take care of me. To bring me clothes, toothbrush, and hairbrush, and shampoo and panties and shoes. He told her to examine me from head to toe, burns happen and you don't know. She was meticulous, she checked behind my ears. Between my toes. She asked me if I was having my period, to buy me women hygiene stuff.

He told her that I she had better make room for me, because there was nothing for me to go back to. I was a student then, and I went to live with her, and he came by every night to check on me, and to get a hot dinner. He decided, and she went along, that it was sort of dumb not to stay married. So he moved back into the house together. I lived there, I mean lived there. I never paid a cent, not for rent, for food, for clothes for school. If you have never been adopted you may not understand.

In a home, I was fattened up quite a bit. I gained thirty pounds, or as it was said then, filled out nicely, a man can get his arms around that. I was set up with regular doctor and dentist visits, my teeth were straightened, and my insides were looked after. I had a regular hair dresser, and nail salon. I had money in my pocket. I had keys to the house. I had my own car.

I sometimes wore college clothes, that weren't really appropriate in the house. So I got a lot of 'cover up' reminders. But you know all the girls at college were wearing halter tops and short shorts come spring. Advertising, is what she said, they are advertising themselves. You don't need to advertise, you already have a home. I switched majors from 'I don't know' to nursing, that is my 'stepmother's' profession. I became an RN, and soon after I got my Master's in Nursing.

Now the difficult part. I was never moving out. I had grown from a waif, a foundling, to a woman and I had my place there. The dance between him and her and me went on and on and on. Until one day I was given permission, to be a woman with him. If I had to. I had rules. I had permission. But I had rules. They were on the way to divorce when he found me, I was taken in to fatten up and now I could fulfill my destiny. I lay back with my hands on my knees in the child birth position, to take it in. It went in pretty easily. And with that we changed roles.

She moved upstairs and I moved downstairs. Until she found a place of her own.