This story is a fantasy based on real people and actual events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I have had more than my share of jobs in my life, and with it has come all sorts of commutes. I've had twenty minute drives along county roads, five minute drives right up the street, hour long commutes down the interstates, and so on. The commute for one particular job I got in the spring of 2003 took me over a bridge. It would usually take me a half an hour to get to work in the morning, but going home was a different story. Sometimes there was no traffic and it would be a breeze. Other times it would take me an hour just to creep over the bridge. There was no rhyme or reason to it, either. You would expect to see all sorts of flashing lights and bodies strewn across the road, but usually the traffic would just dissipate and leave you wondering why your evening was ruined. But I digress.
One recurring theme of my jobs was that for some reason I never lived particularly close to any of my co-workers. This job was an exception in that I lived in the same town as this girl Vicki. It didn't matter, really, until one week in the summer of 2003.
Let me tell you a little bit about Vicki. She was an attractive girl in her mid 20's, with a pretty freckled oval face, green eyes, a button nose and full lips, shoulder-length blonde hair that she usually wore in a bun, 5'4 and petite. She liked to wear what I always considered to be men's dress shirts that seemed a little tight on her, but with them pulled tight they accentuated her boobs. Judging by her last name she had Dutch ancestry. We started about the same time and hit it off as friends. I was single and she was single. We would frequently eat our lunches together. I remember one lunchtime conversation where we got to talking about how we'd each had our noses broken once, and how sensitive the spot of the fracture on the bridges of our noses had become. So there we were, sitting in the middle of our company's lunch room, rubbing each other's sensitive noses.
I know what you're thinking, why didn't we hook up right away? I was in my late 20's at the time, going through a string of almost comically bad dates. Well, besides the old adage 'don't dip your pen in the company ink,' I wasn't sure that Vicki was really my type. She was the kind of girl that talked too loud, and laughed too loud. She had a way of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You know the type. It was a little bit off-putting. So, we stayed friends.
The real story begins one Monday morning in August. Vicki came over to my desk. "Could you do me a huge favor?" She asked.
I was never one to turn down a damsel in distress, I thought to myself. Did she need help moving some boxes or something? "Sure," I said.
"I got rear-ended over the weekend and my car is in the shop all week long," Vicki said, "I have a ride to work all week but I need a lift home. I was wondering if you could drop me off on your way home."
I paused. I knew where she lived, more or less, with her folks. It was on my way home, but I'd have to pop off the main road to get to her street. It was probably a ten minute detour. I probably gave it more thought than I should have because I was obsessed with "my time" in those days and the extra driving would eat into my evenings a little bit. I thought I should throw that bit of neurosis at you, if you were wondering why I was single at the time. Even the dashing young heroes of the stories have their flaws. In the end I couldn't say no to somebody who needed my help, and I agreed.
I almost came to regret it that very first day. We were in my car on the way home. I drove home the way I always drove home, with the windows open and the music blaring. We had just gotten onto the bridge when Vicki spotted two motorcycles riding alongside us. "Yeah, badass!" She yelled, and unbuckled her seat belt and stuck her entire upper body outside the window, shouting and shaking her fist at the bikers. Oh my God, what was wrong with this girl? I wondered. Lucky the bikers were probably wondering the same thing, and we all survived, but I was thinking it was going to be a long, dangerous week.
Vicki unexpectedly ended up taking off from work on Tuesday and Wednesday, reappearing on Thursday. The drives home Thursday and Friday went much more smoothly than Monday's did, and I found myself sitting in Vicki's driveway around 5:30 on Friday afternoon, sitting in my car and chatting. Vicki lived with her parents, but there were no cars in the driveway. Vicki said that they went away on vacation, and she had the house to herself.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting in Vicki's driveway I started to get hungry. I was about to try to excuse myself so that I could get home for dinner, but Vicki had other plans. She unbuckled her seatbelt and said, "I wanted to thank you for driving me home this week." I thought that was it, and she was on her way out of the car, but instead she leaned over and kissed me.
If I wasn't still strapped in I probably would've jumped right out of my seat, I was so surprised. She grabbed my head with both hands so that she could pull me closer to her. As we kissed my mind raced. This wasn't a very good idea. We're co-workers! She's not really my type! But, she's hot! I mentioned that I had been on a string of bad dates. Before that my last relationship was long-distance and crashed and burned spectacularly about a year before, so it had been a while since I had any kind of physical contact. That was probably the main reason I let it continue, because I was hard up. I was thinking, maybe we kiss a little, she goes inside, I go home and jerk off, and hopefully things aren't too awkward around the office on Monday.
