Collecting Bottles, Cans & Friends

Just trying to survive, just trying to collect enough deposit money to live on, after being unable to get a job, recycling bottles and cans was her only desperate way left to feed and clothe herself. To make things more manageable, she enlisted a shopping cart from the local grocery store to collect her bottles and cans. Never thinking that she'd be relegated to pushing a shopping cart full of bottles and cans through the streets, always having had a good paying job, with unemployment and homelessness her new reality, her ticket to surviving was to think out of the box. Speaking of a box, glad that she had the roof of the shelter over her head, she was glad that she wasn't living in an appliance box, as some of the other homeless people she knew. The hardcore homeless, preferring to take their chances on the street, refused to take refuge in the shelter for reasons of personal safety.

No longer able to afford her rent, having exhausted her unemployment and savings, she moved from Boston to central Pennsylvania in June to live with and help her elderly mother, after losing her job. Then, when the Susquehanna River flooded its banks and crested 30' above flood stage level in September, she lost everything. The worst downpour in Pennsylvania's history, the water overwhelmed their small basement apartment. With the flood waters reaching the second floor of the building where she lived, and contaminated with home heating oil, she was unable to salvage anything, not even her car.

Her life a waterlog mess, with everything ruined, food, clothes, furniture, photographs, small appliances, and electronics, fortunately, chauffeuring her mother around in her mother's car at the time for her doctor's appointment, luckily she had her laptop with her to write her stories, while waiting for her mother, otherwise she would have lost that, too. Still, she considered herself lucky, as three people lost their lives in the flood, one a firefighter trying to save an elderly man upside down in his car. Both were swept away. She felt for the residents of her neighborhood that had small children. Many had no other place to go than to the shelter. Trying to take care of and entertain small children, who don't understand why they can't go home, is no picnic, when living in a shelter and being so dependent upon someone else's generosity.

Trying to maintain a positive attitude, at least she had a roof over her head, even if it was only a temporary shelter. From the fall to the early winter, she spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's at the women's shelter in downtown Harrisburg, the worst part of the city. Between the yelling and the fighting of her homeless neighbors, and the crime, the drugs, and the violence, feeling as if she was a resident in an insane asylum, there wasn't much celebrating going on there, just poverty. misery, and rage.

Not even safe at the mission, while waiting in line to be served her holiday food, her blonde hair was a beacon shining her beauty from behind and her shapely body a flag waving her desirability. With no man there to protect her, the two men of many standing behind her in line took their turns copping cheap feels of her round, tight ass and her firm C cup breasts. Preoccupied in thought with where else to apply for work, she didn't feel the men touching her at first. No doubt, they must have thought that they had a live one ready to have sex with them. Then, when one of them tried lifting up her short skirt, one of the few clothing items she had left, actually raising it high enough in back to expose her bikini clad ass, she couldn't imagine what they'd do, if she wasn't in a public place and they had her alone.

"Hey, fuck off, asshole," she yelled her indignation, while fluffing down her short skirt and moving up in line to step away from them.

With her mother looking every bit as beautiful as Dina Merrill of old and looking more like 60-years-old than 75-years-old, even her mother's ass and breasts weren't safe from the horny hands of those lechers that frequented the mission and waited in line behind them for a hot meal. Bump and grope, hump and feel, and touch and fondle, one would blame the other for touching, feeling, and groping parts of her shapely body that would get them arrested, if they were on the city street and not in a crowded mission. After deep budget cuts, the security in shelters and missions was as limited as their services were to help the homeless. With no one there to protect her from being sexually assaulted, she was everyone's everyday target. Then, when the two men followed them and sat at their table to continue their sexual abuse, albeit verbally this time, she and her mother moved to a safer table to dine with a single mother and her three, small children.

Not much of a life, after having lost everything, to have to live with her mother in a shelter and eat her meals at the mission, nonetheless, she was thankful for the bed and grateful for the food. Knocking on doors every day looking for work, while hoping that today was the day she'd get a job and this company was the employer who'd hire her, she heard the same thing over and again.

"Sorry, there are no openings."

"Sorry, you can fill out an application, but I already have a hundred people applying for this one job."

"Sorry, but you're overqualified. We'd never hire you for such a lowly position. As soon as the economy improved, you'd leave us for a higher paying job that had benefits."

"Sorry, but with so many others that are more qualified and willing to take less money than you, I can't offer you this job."

With most of the full-time jobs now made part-time, employers wanted those new hires to do two jobs made into one, while paying less than what one of those jobs used to pay. An employers' market, with most jobs offering no benefits, not even partial health insurance, and few of those jobs being very appealing, employers took advantage of a desperate workforce in a bad economy. Nonetheless, willing to work at anything for any wage, unfortunately, there were too many other desperate people with the same mindset.

Had she not been the center of unwanted attention by men, since the time she first developed breasts, Susan may have recoiled at the thought of what she allowed men to do to her for much needed money. Always uncomfortable with men staring and leering at her, embarrassed by the lewdly dirty things they'd say to her, she spent a lifetime fighting off men from groping her and trying to have their wicked way with her. Yet, she did whatever she had to do to survive and hated herself later for having to stoop so low to live. Sometimes, while looking through trash for bottles and cans, she'd occasionally allow some men she came upon in a back alley to cop a cheap feel of her for a few dollars.

Never volunteering herself for fear of being arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior or worse for prostitution, leery of those who approached her, she'd give a select few men a quick feel her breasts, ass, and pussy through her clothes for money. Lucky that one of them didn't drag her in a doorway and rape her, beat her, rob her, and even murder her, even though they all wanted more than just a quick feel, they all took no for an answer. Even though she was destitute and desperate for money, having more self-respect than that, she wasn't about to get down on her knees in a dirty, rat infested alley and blow some bum, especially one who hadn't showered in a while. Besides, bad enough being felt up by strange men and businessmen cutting through the alleyway, while on their lunch hour, other than a cheap feel here and there, other than a hand job, performing lewd sex acts on them was crossing the line.

With a network of homeless men and back alley dwellers, after the word spread that she'd willingly sell the feel of her body for money, she had a small side business of horny, homeless men and white and blue collar workers, who willingly parted with a few dollars for a quick feel of her big breasts, round ass, and blonde pussy, even if only through her clothes. Once they saw how pretty and shapely she was and knew she'd allow them to touch her, grope her, and feel her, all of them wanted more. Willing to be a bit more daring and relenting to do a bit more, depending upon her mood, she'd flash someone her breast for five dollars, give someone a feel of her bare breast or bare ass for ten dollars and, depending on the man, even give an occasional hand job for twenty bucks, so long as he was clean, but that's as far as she'd go.

Funny how she could justify what she did, when she did it for the sake of money to buy food. Yet, doing any more than allowing someone to feel her, while she felt their erections through their pants and stroked their cocks outside of their pants, made her feel too much like a cheap prostitute. Selling her decency and modesty for money, even though she drew the line at sucking and fucking, she tried not to think of herself as a hooker but, by definition and in all respects, giving sexual favors in exchange for money, she was. Able to justify what she did because she was poor, hungry, and desperate, whatever money she earned from allowing men to touch, feel, and grope her, she bought food and those necessities of life that she needed and not drugs and alcohol, as did so many others in her dire situation.

Between the police harassing her and her being the target of every crazy, long-term homeless man, who felt she invaded their private, personal territory by stealing their discarded bottles and cans, the city streets quickly became too dangers for a woman, especially a woman who looked like her. Tired of competing for every bottle and can with every drunk and drugged out bum sleeping on the street corner, men who soon wanted more than just a quick feel of her tits and ass and/or a hand job, she decided to move to a better neighborhood. Leaving the shelter, the only home she now had, and abandoning the mission, where she ate her merger meals, she packed up what few possessions she had left and took a bus with her mother across the river to Hershey, the more affluent side of Central Pennsylvania.

* * * * *

Having to leave her beloved shopping cart behind, hopefully, she'd find a job and wouldn't need a shopping cart. If she was unable to find a job in Hershey, she'd find another shopping cart and collect bottles and cans there, too. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to resort to that. Yet, with Hershey Park being the biggest tourist destination in the state, between the amusement park, the concerts they held, the sporting events, and the famed Hershey car show, she could only imagine how many return for deposit items there'd be for her to collect. Hershey Park was a bottle and can collectors paradise. Unfortunately, she quickly learned that the employees of the park policed the area of all bottles and cans and frowned upon anyone invading their private paradise with a shopping cart loaded with bottles and cans. Besides, designed more for cars than pedestrians, the parking area was so immense that it was difficult for her to walk end to end, especially when pushing a shopping cart.

First things first, she and her mother needed a place to live. She sought temporary shelter at the local church, where she befriended the reverend. With Susan being so easy on the eyes and possessing such a pleasant and amenable personality, it wasn't difficult for her to make new friends. In the way that she looked, everyone wanted to be her friend, that is except for the wives of those husbands, who gave her long, leering, lustful looks.

Lots of people wanted to help her, especially men, unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. In exchange for money, men were willing to give her a place to sleep for the night, so long as she slept with them naked and in the same bed. Wanting none of that, she wanted a job, but there were none, not in this bad economy. Instead, the kind reverend gave her a place to sleep and paid her some pocket money to help with the daily duties of the shelter and the food bank. With her mother making new friends, too, a church woman offered Susan and her mother a spare bedroom she had in her house.

"I heard from the good reverend about you being homeless, after losing everything in the flood, and I'd be grateful if you and your lovely daughter would stay with me, until you get back on your feet. I have a spare bedroom. I've been so lonely after my Henry died," she said with sad eyes, as if the mere mention of her beloved husband's name brought back memories.

Now living in a small bedroom in the house of her mother's new friend, after having to suffer through living at the shelter and eating meals at the mission, even though they had to share a bed, Susan and her Mom were safe from harm and grateful for the smallest of comforts in life. Yet, still without a job, but for the few dollars she earned helping with the shelter and their food bank, and struggling to live on her mother's meager Social Security check, Susan returned to picking up bottles and cans, this time, in exclusive Hershey, instead of downtown Harrisburg. Only, knowing that the local police would never allow her to continue with what she did in Harrisburg, especially in allowing men to feel her up for money in a back alley, she devised a new plan, one that accommodated her need for money and one that went along with what was acceptable to her new, affluent neighborhood.

Barely making enough money collecting bottles and cans to survive, there must be a better way, she thought, but what? How can she make more money just by collecting bottles and cans? Maybe, she thought, making new friends was the key to her success. Maybe she thought, instead of looking like a homeless woman, she'd have more success looking like the person she used to be and still is inside. She commandeered an errant shopping cart from the local supermarket and marketed herself by attaching a sign to each side of her shopping cart.

"PLEASE HELP THE HOMELESS."

A desperate measure during desperate times for her to so advertise, especially in prohibitively and restrictive Hershey, not too proud or too embarrassed to beg, she just didn't want to be arrested for panhandling. In truth and by definition, she and her mother were, indeed, homeless, and she wasn't lying about any donations received going to help the homeless, albeit namely them. Even though they had temporary shelter in an elderly church woman's home, they were still at the mercy and generosity of their new benefactress. Not that she would, but she could rescind her offer to shelter them and ask them to leave at any time.

Only, keenly aware of her affluent neighborhood, not wanting to look like a homeless beggar, she needed to more play the innocent, albeit beautiful, buxom, blonde part. Hoping for more, especially with her pushing the shopping cart, in the way that it would look if Ashley Tisdale or Jessica Simpson was pushing the carriage, but with everyone falling on hard times, her shopping cart advertisement only worked well enough for her to earn her just a few more dollars than what she made digging through trash dumpsters in downtown Harrisburg alleyways. Trying another tactic and dressing as if she lived in the this new, ritzy neighborhood. Instead of going out in jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers to dig through trash and pick up bottles and cans from the gutter, she had her hair and nails done, bought a few sexy, albeit respectful outfits with what meager money she had saved, and hit the streets again.

Only, this time, wearing a short skirt to show off her shapely legs and a low cut blouse to highlight her long line of cleavage and enhance her big tits, this was her new uniform of choice. With her sexy appearance her way for the admiring men to notice her, she attracted those men who wanted to help the homeless, expressly hoping to help get her in their bed. Looking much like a stripper who found religion, her long blonde hair, pretty face, and shapely figure attracted a lot of attention, both male and female. Looking nothing like the homeless woman that she was, even the policemen that passed her by gave her a smile, a wave, and sometimes even a donation of few dollars to her worthy cause. If only they knew that her cause was more exclusively personally and that she was the one homeless, they'd frown on her publically panhandling on their clean city streets.

Staying off Chocolate, Cocoa, and Park Avenues, the main thoroughfares through Hershey, and pushing her cart up the side streets across from Mansion Road, where Milton Hershey used to live, she traveled the pristine streets, where all the big shot executives, who work for Hershey's assorted and varied businesses live. Once she became a familiar face, looking as if she belonged, she was accepted, when the residents emerged from their lavish homes to greet her and to give her green trash bags filled with bottles and cans. It was so much easier to collect bottles and cans, when the green trash bags that residents handed her were full of them. Instead of having to dig through dumpsters and gutters, by just advertising with a sign on her carriage and promoting herself by altering her appearance, she was now making so much more money in Hershey than she ever did in Harrisburg.

* * * * *

"Hi Susan," said Greg, an interior decorator, who owned a business on Chocolate Avenue in Hershey, appropriately named, Chocolate Is Not the Only Color. "I have some bottles and cans for you today," he said handing her a bag of recyclables, along with a check made out to her for $100.00, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's so commendable of you to help the homeless. Truth be told, by giving you my recyclables, you make me feel as if I'm directly helping them, too. I'll see you next week, Honey."

"Thank you, Greg. Bye," said Susan waving him a smile.

"Yoo-hoo, Susan," said Mario, another neighbor from across the street, "I have some bottles and cans for the homeless," he said holding up a bag of recyclables.

Mario owned a woman's shoe store on Chocolate Avenue in Hershey, called Foot Confections, Sweet Feet. Knowing that he had a foot fetish and, once she gave him her shoe size, he'd emerge from his house each week with a pair of new shoes to give her, that is, so long as he could personally fit the shoes to her feet, no doubt, while ogling her panties beneath her short skirt. Certainly, for a free pair of new and stylish shoes, Susan didn't mind Mario stealing a peek of her panties in an up skirt. Being the exhibitionist that she is, she's routinely flashed her panties to shoe store salesman before. A game she loves playing, she's already shown unsuspecting men so much more than just her panties in an up skirt. Lifting her skirt and spreading her legs more, while looking down at the shoes that Mario fitted to her feet, she knew that from the angle where he squatted, that she was giving him all that he hoped to see.

So much better than collecting bottles and cans in the alleyways in downtown Harrisburg, with her pretense of helping the homeless so very commendable and innocent, making new friends in Hershey was easy. With the bottle and can deposits going to a worthy cause to support her and her homeless mother, Susan didn't think she was doing anything wrong or illegal and truth be told, she wasn't, theoretically, ethically, perhaps. Only, just in the way that she did in the back alleyways of downtown Harrisburg, it was then that she realized that she could make so much more money by befriending some of the lonely, horny, and wealthy men in her newly adopted Hershey neighborhood. So long as she was discreet, so long as they were giving her what she needed, money, and she was giving them what they wanted, sex, who would know?

By playing the part of the not so innocent and not so reluctant sexy vixen, Susan soon discovered that she no longer needed a job to earn a living. Except for continuing the pretense of pushing her cart, by merely using her face and figure, she no longer needed to collect bottles and cans. By just maintaining the charade of helping the homeless by collecting a token amount of bottles and cans, the signage displayed on her shopping cart was enough to admit her entrance to exclusive homes, that is, whenever the woman of the house wasn't around.