Road Trip '82
Keywords: Road, Trip, '82,
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I was tired and I was also low on gas. It was 11:45 according to the dashboard clock. I'd been driving since 6 that morning. The reflectors on the road were dazzling and putting me to sleep. Fortunately, I passed a sign reading "Gas/Food/Snacks! 24 hours! Next Exit". I pulled onto the ramp and waited a few seconds when I reached the stop sign at the bottom.
Looking to my left, I saw lights on at a convenience store. I turned and made my way there. At the pump I killed the engine and got out, stretching my sore back. I decided that if there was a motel nearby, I'd call it a night. I was way past the age when I could drive all night and still be alert when the sun came up. I slid my card into the reader and started the pump. The price per gallon was a little higher than at the last station but I didn't have a choice.
I twisted and felt and heard a satisfying crack-crack in my lower back. I shook my head and realized how really tired I was. The pump clicked off and I squeezed the handle to top the tank off. I hung the nozzle back on the pump and waited for the receipt.
The engine caught on the first rotation and I pulled over to the front of the store. There were no other cars around. As I entered I noticed that there was no one behind the counter. I sleepwalked toward the coffee machine, pondering whether to go for plain coffee or one of the fancier varieties. I decided to go for a cappuccino since it was stronger and sweeter.
As the machine began spitting out the espresso and milk a good looking girl of about twenty five, with shoulder length red hair came out of the back room. Well, she was a woman, but any female more than ten years younger than me is a girl to me. This one looked to be somewhere in her late twenties. She glanced my way and said, "Welcome to the end of the world." She slid behind the counter and leaned on it on her elbows.
"Thanks," I replied. "Why do you call it that?"
"Because it's a sleepy, nothing place. Sometimes I wish I'd never heard of it."
The machine finished filling my cup and I went to the counter to pay. The woman stood up, but not before I got a good glimpse of her considerable cleavage. "So why don't you leave?" I unfolded two bucks and set them in front of her.
"That's a long story. You probably don't have time to hear it. Besides, I get tired of telling it."
I laughed and took my change. Her hand brushed mine and I looked into her eyes. They were a deep green, a color you don't see often. She was about 5' 9", a few inches shorter than I am. She was wearing one of those cropped tee shirts and cutoff jeans. The size of her tits held the bottom of the shirt away from her belly, which had a nice curve to it. I wouldn't say she was fat, but she definitely had curves.
I sipped the coffee and burned my tongue, as usual. I don't know why I never learn about that. "Well, I have a lot of time. Is there a motel close by?" I asked.
"Yeah, there's a Motel 6 about a mile east. You turn left out of here and go to the K-Mart and take a right. Keep going and you can't miss it." Her eyes held mine. I've only known two women with green eyes. They both loved to fuck. I wondered if this girl was like that. Her tits acquired definite points as we talked. I tried not to stare.
"So, where are you headed?" she asked. I took the top off my cup and blew on the foam in an attempt to cool it.
"I'm on my way to Vegas," I said. "I start a new job on Monday. I do appraisals on homes."
"Well that certainly sounds boring. You look like you'd have a sexier job than that." I frowned. Her comment was two-edged and I wondered what she meant. I decided to take it as a bantering compliment.
"Hey, it's easy and it pays well. Not to be flip, but your job isn't exactly an executive position." She laughed.
"Oh, this isn't 'what I do', it's just temporary. I'm actually a writer and also the daughter of a millionaire and I'm doing this to get material for my first novel."
"Oh, yeah, I should have realized that," I said, moving toward the door. Her next words stopped me, however.
"Hey, as long as you're here, maybe you can help me. I need to restock the beer case and I need a boost to get the top case down. Come on in the back." She moved out from behind the counter and beckoned me with a wave. I set my cup on the counter and followed. Her ass was fascinating. It was nice and round, just the way I like them. Her short tee shirt showed the ubiquitous tattoo just above the curve. She glanced back, caught me looking and grinned.
The back room was small. It was packed with various types of merchandise and as she said, the beer was stacked almost to the ceiling in one corner. I thought it strange that the manager would have left it that way, but really there was no other place for it.
She turned and told me to make a 'stirrup' for her to stand on so she could reach the first case or two. I wasn't sure I could do it that way, though. My legs are stronger than my arms so I suggested she just climb onto my shoulders. "That way you can hand me the first one and grab the second. After that you can reach the rest."
She looked a little doubtful but she said she'd try it. The thought of her thick thighs over my shoulders (and her cunt pressed against my neck) got me going a bit. I squatted and she mounted up. I caught a scent I was familiar with: hot crotch.
I stood up; glad it was as easy as it was. She slid the first box of beer off the stack and handed it down. I took it with one hand and held on to her bare thigh with the other. She picked the second box off and I squatted down again. She swung her leg off and hopped down. My face was level with her hips and I looked up.
She gave me a smile. "That was easy. Thanks. She brushed against me as she led the way back to the front. Her tits felt good against my chest. I again followed her wide butt to the cooler.
I wondered why we were only taking two boxes out, but I thought I was beginning to get the idea. The back of my neck still felt kind of warm fro her hot crotch.
She opened the cooler and slid her box in and turned to take mine from me. Those green eyes slipped across my eyes again. I felt a flush pass through me. Her eyes were somehow compelling. She let the cooler door swing closed and turned to me.
"You know..." she began but the chime of the door opening interrupted her. We both turned to see who had entered. A man with white hair and a mustache was walking toward the back room. "Hey, Harry!" she called out. He stopped and turned toward the voice.
"Hey, Marnie," he said. "Has it been busy tonight?"
"Not so much," she said. "Just a few locals and this guy." She looked up at me again. "Say, what is your name?"
"I'm Paul, Stockard," I told her.
"Pleased to meetcha, Paul. Harry's my relief. I'm off now. If you give me a ride home I'll show you the motel. It's on the way." I told her I'd be glad to take her home. Then she did something strange. She reached out to my stomach and kind of scratched or tickled it with the tips of her fingers before she headed over to clock out. I followed her and found my coffee where I'd left it. It was still hot, but it had cooled enough to drink.
She said she'd be just a second and headed back to the back. Harry and I said the kind of things people in that situation say. Marnie came out carrying a blue sweater. I couldn't help noticing her nipples were hard again. Harry looked at me and winked.
"Yeah, there's the K-Mart. Take a right," she said. The streets were deserted. As I saw the lights and sign of the motel, my heart sank. The 'no' neon was lit next to the 'vacancy' tubes. "Uh-oh," Marnie said quietly.
"Yeah," I said, "More like 'Oh, shit!'"
"Well, that's the only place in town. The next place is about thirty miles down the road."
"Well, I guess I can handle that," I said.
"Or..." she said, and looked over at me, "I have a fold-out couch. It's not all that comfortable, but you're welcome to it."
I glanced her way and she had a straight face. "Do you make a habit of taking in strangers? What if I'm a serial killer and I've just been waiting to get you alone to cut your heart out?"
She laughed. "I'm a good judge of character. I don't think a house appraiser would make a good killer. Besides, you could have sliced me up in the back room a while ago."
I had pulled over in front of the motel. I looked out the windshield. My eyes hurt and the stretching had only been a temporary relief. "Okay," I said. "But you'll have to let me pat you what I'd have spent in there." I waved in the direction of the motel.
"Oh, no," I'm not that kind of girl," she joked. "You helped me so I figure you earned a bed and maybe a shower, if you want one." The idea of a hot shower was what did it.
"Okay, where to?" I asked her.
Just go straight ahead. I'll let you know where to turn." So I pulled back onto the road. In a few minutes we were parked in her driveway. An old Chevy was pulled in under the carport. She explained that the radiator was broken and she was saving up for a new one.
The house was small, little more than a cabin. It was definitely a feminine place. The main room was a living room and a kitchenette. We pulled the cushions off the couch and she folded it out. "I'll get you some sheets and a blanket," she said and went into a darkened hallway.
When she came back she made up the bed, despite my protests that I could do it. "Nah," she said, "it's easy enough." Still, I helped her. After tucking in the corners she put her hands on her hips and tipped her head toward the hall. Come on, I'll show you the bathroom.
The hallway was short. At one end was the bathroom. In the center was a closed door and at the other end was a dark room with the door open. She turned on the light in the bathroom and told me towels were in the linen closet (the closed door).
Then she walked toward the open door and flipped the light switch inside. It was her bedroom, of course. "Go ahead and make yourself at home," she told me. "I'm going to get out of these clothes.
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Keywords: Road, Trip, '82,