I must give credit to my editor SlaveGirl70. She was a vital contributor to this story, and corrected many blunders on the part of the author. I can't thank her enough.
Daunti
*****
On The Road Again
An Exercise in Middle Aged Fantasy
Tim had been driving alone for nearly six hours. He'd stopped for gas and a cup of coffee about thirty minutes ago, but as usual his mind tended to wander when there wasn't anyone around.
Three A.M. on a Friday morning, forty miles south of Kingsville, Texas on highway 77 south. Why am I here? I'm here because I'm headed home from a meeting in Austin. I could have stayed over but if I get home now I'll have all day today off and no one to answer to. If I have breakfast and stall a little, my wife will be at work when I get home, and I can have the day to do what I want. Not that I don't like my wife, but when we're both home during the day, even on the weekends, she's always demanding my attention and I get bored. Beside, I've been true to her for twenty-two years, but lately I've been wondering what it would be like to pursue a young, slender, girl with firm, perky tits, silky skin and a great figure. I've never had one of those, and it's tempting, but the problem with that is that I wouldn't have the foggiest notion how to approach one. Do I pick one out in the supermarket and get myself arrested for propositioning her on the spot? Probably not a good idea... Go to a bar and try to pick one up? Even if I could get enough time out of my wife's sight to go to a bar, I can't imagine a twenty something year old taking me seriously. There's nobody at work for me to hit on; they're all either as old as my wife, or fat, or ugly, or as stupid as a cow, or all of the above. I can always hope the boss will hire a looker but there's not much chance of that. His wife would kill him if he did, and he knows it. Even if he did hire one, what would she want with a forty-year-old fart like me? And the worst problem of all is that it's wrong. I made my choices and I can't go back on them now It's fun to think about but I'll never do it. Well, so much for that idea.
Forty miles south of Kingsville on highway 77 there was nothing but a fence on each side of the divided highway, and beyond the fences, sagebrush and cactus. There wasn't any civilization for another thirty miles. It's a desolate stretch of highway that was even more so at three o'clock in the morning.
Tim shook his head to try to wake up. It was always dangerous on this stretch, especially if you're fatigued. It tends to lull one to sleep.
Then he saw it: a red sports car stopped just off the road, on the shoulder, with the emergency blinkers flashing and the hood open. It looked like a Jaguar convertible.
Should I stop? Good question. If I was stranded out here at three in the morning I'd appreciate some help, but I'm alone. On the other hand, it doesn't seem likely that somebody's going to set a trap at this time of night, when there's not much traffic, and it's as apt to yield a highway patrol trooper as an unsuspecting victim. Of course, the Jag is good bait...
Tim slowed down and pulled off the road behind the red Jag. He put on the emergency flashers and turned off the headlights, but left the parking lights on. Just as he opened his door to get out, the driver's door of the Jag opened, showing a shapely female leg.
As she got out, the only thing he could tell about her in the dim glow of the parking lights was that she was trim and wearing shorts and a halter-top. She eyed him with some hesitation, cocking her head as he walked toward her, but finally took a step toward him and said, "Thanks for stopping. I was afraid I'd have to spend the whole night by myself out here in the boonies. Being a city girl, I don't think I've ever seen any place as dark and empty or as frightening as this is."
"Hello, I'm Tim Henry. What happened?"
"Hi, I'm Jessica Long. I don't know what happened, the damned car just quit."
"Nice to meet you, Jessica; it's a shame it has to be under these circumstances. I'm sorry I don't have any tools along on this trip, but it wouldn't help much if I did. With the new cars these days, it takes a whole shop full of equipment just to find out what's wrong. The best I can do is to offer you a lift. Where are you headed?"
"I was on my way to Padre Island for spring break."
"Well, what would you like to do? We can call someone to tow your car, but not till tomorrow. There's no cell phone service this far out, so we'll at least have to go to Raymondville. I'm sure there's no towing service open overnight there. It's just a small town."
"Mr. Henry, if you can just get me to someplace where I can get a room, I'll call my insurance company in the morning and they'll get the car towed to a dealership. It's still under warranty so it'll get fixed, but I'll need a rental to get on to Padre Island. I'd hate to miss even a day of spring break just because my stupid car broke down."
"Please, call me Tim. May I call you Jessica?"
"Actually it's Jess to my friends, and I'd say helping me out like this makes us at least friends."
I wonder if he's married. A little old, but then I haven't tried an older man yet. If he cheats he may know how to supply orgasms...or maybe not. Let's see what happens.