"If you give me a lift as far as you're going, I'll go topless the whole trip."
My publisher is out to kill me. At least it feels that way.
All along my signing tour of the East Coast, he kept after me to turn in chapters of my next book, bitching the whole time that I was 'wasting time' driving myself everywhere when I should be working. Joke's on him though, because I use talk-to-text on the road while I run plots and knock out sections, sitting down at my laptop to tie bits and chunks together and clean things up that sounded good in my head but read like shit on the printed page. I get lots of work done while driving or stuck in traffic.
And I NEED those rest breaks getting laid to keep the imaginative juices flowing. Along with other juices flowing.
Remind me to tell you about the woman whose pussy tasted like a s'more sometime.
I finished my manuscript and turned it in while in Boston and the editors are busy tearing it down into my fourteenth novel as we speak. So, I'm ready to kick back, maybe catch the last few Flyers games or the first few Phillies games, sort my notes for the next book and the usual stuff associated with being 'between projects' when I get the phone call from my agent. The publishers have set me up with a four-stop signing tour to announce the new book and keep the momentum of the last thirteen going and I need to be ready to fly to St Louis in five days.
Okay, full disclosure here- I'm not so keen on flying if I can avoid it. I find it nerve racking, boring as shit, and it gives me a screaming headache. The last one is an air pressure thing that all the gum in the world can't deal with. Any flights over 3 hours, I will absolutely bypass if I can.
Philadelphia to St Louis? That's fourteen hours by car on the highway. I can do that in my sleep. I think I HAVE done that in my sleep. My bags were packed and I was ready to roll before noon. Took me a few more hours to actually get out the door, but I was ready to go.
I was a bit West of Harrisburg on I76 when I pulled over for gas and a quick meal. I was in no hurry to get to my hotel and felt the need to keep both tanks full. I topped off the gas, then went inside to have a nice sit-down meal in a chair that wasn't moving. I chatted with the clerk for a bit (Pretty woman with long multi-colored braids in her hair who just got dumped by her cop ex-husband for a younger model from Jamaica. He was obviously not good enough for her and I said so. Hell, if Harrisburg wasn't a 2-hour drive from Philly, I might have considered dating her on the regular. Or, at least, tried to hook up with her if I was in the area longer (Her shift didn't end for another 6 hours and I wasn't going to wait that long.).), then found my seat and started eating. A bus pulled out of the rest stop and I was left, more or less alone in the place.
I was fully lost in plotline-land, staring off into space so far away from where I was that I completely missed the young woman who came rushing out of the Ladies Room, looked around outside frantically before running back up to the clerk. They chatted a bit, then the clerk directed the younger woman over to my table. Obviously, my pussy hound radar is on the blink, or I'm relying on the SI App a bit too much these days, because I didn't even notice her until she flopped down in the chair across from me.
"She says you're heading West, that right?" she asked grumpily, a stark contrast to her overall looks. When the clerk had several brightly-colored braids, this young woman had shaved her head on one side and the other was a professionally done rainbow color shift that fell down to about her cheek. She also sported a very nice rainbow tattoo across the parts of her upper chest peeking out from the neck of her jacket. When she sat, her coat opened enough that I could see she wasn't wearing a top. Or a bra. And boy, did that valley look nice.
So, when she made her proposal up there, she sweetened the pot by flashing me those barely covered little globes- one pierced with a pot of gold bangle and the other with a leprechaun, I wasn't about to say 'No.'. I'd say A-cup, maybe a smaller B.
Hindsight wants me to make myself look cooler by remembering I said something like-
'I'll drive you all night long.' or 'Does the carpet match the drapes and mural?' or 'Do I get to taste your Lucky Charms?' or 'I want to taste the rainbow!' or 'I hope you taste like Skittles.'.
Reality steps in and reports I answered this way-
"I'm heading to St Louis. You want a burger or something before we leave?" Spoken in true Mr Suave, hook-up style, through a mouthful of fries.
She did, which gave me time to recover. I knew she wasn't an underaged runaway at least. The tat on her chest told me that much. Also gave us a little time to chat before we hit the road. Sha said her name was 'Rainbow', which she'd changed from her given name of Rahne for family reasons (Mostly they didn't approve of her lifestyle choices.) and she stripped under the name 'Aurora'.
"I'm on my way to St Louis too," she said between bites, wolfing down her meal like she hadn't eaten in a few days. She'd asked for a pair of extra-long hog dogs- the first she devoured and the second she ate slowly, with more meaning. Licking and sucking on the exposed meat before biting it off slowly. "I was on a bus that stopped here but got off to go finger-bang myself in the bathroom while everyone else was getting snacks. By the time I got myself off, they'd left." I was getting the sense that she was very frank and open about her sexuality. Not sure what clued me in though. "Charletta over there says another one will be by tomorrow, but I really don't want to waste my night sitting in a highway rest stop just to get back on with a bunch of grannies and creepy dudes."
"What's leading you West?" I tried not to look at her bare skin through her reopened coat once more showing me her cleavage and bare belly, but damn, it wasn't the food making my mouth water. At least the clerk wasn't watching me perv my companion, chatting instead with another customer.
"Sex," she replied, taking a long pull at her fountain soda and making my pants even tighter, if that were possible. "I dropped out of college to strip on stage and fuck myself stupid online, both of which pay better than being groped up by frat bros between keg stands. I figure I've got a few years of being a fuck toy left in me before I'm not getting the hits or bucks any more so until then I occasionally whore myself out to other camgirls or couples looking for a playmate. They pay my way; I come join them for a few days to be their guest slut. I'm always horny, so it all works out."
"I suppose that's as good a reason as any," I said, bending to pick up the large gym bag she said contained everything she owned- clothes, phone, laptop and toiletries.
"Can I just say," she remarked, walking backwards to wave goodbye to the clerk who had steered her to me. "That Charletta is stupid hot and she just doesn't know it? If I ever make it back this way, I think I want to stop here and fuck her on the floor."
Surprised that she hadn't set off the Slut App, I decided I needed to increase my Virgin Killer status and helped her download it to her phone after we got to my SUV. We were back on the highway before she broke the enchantment of setting up her profile.
"I am going to have so many badges," she gloated, practically drooling with anticipation. Quite casually, she leaned the seat back, stripped off everything but her sneakers, put on a pair of cartoon character sunglasses and went back to scrolling through the app. Her free hand drifted at first to her exposed pussy and then to my arm, pulling my hand to her leg.
"Unless I read you wrong and you're gay," she said, watching me over the rim of her sunglasses. She pulled my hand closer to her crotch. "You aren't gay, are you?"
"Not even slightly," I assured her, rubbing my hand up and down her silky thigh. My fingers brushed the little tuft of blond pubic hair at the top of her slit. I could just make out two small tattoos on either side of her bush- 'Lucky You' and 'Pot o'Gold'. I watched in the mirror as she sighed contentedly, shifting her legs open a little more. "I just didn't want to rush. We've got a good ten hours on the road before getting to St Louis. Might as well savor it, right?"
"Mmhmmm," she moaned quietly, my fingers finally starting a slow massage of her outer pussy.
Out of sight of most other vehicles on the road, she lay there casually, soaking up the late afternoon sun, occasionally waving to any truckers lucky enough to look down at us as we passed them by. After a few hours, the news must have gotten out, because more than a few of them had cameras at the ready. By then, she had taken over, slowly teasing herself through orgasm after slow orgasm.
We did talk too. We discussed our various travels around the country- me on tours or research trips and her nomadically bouncing from bed to bed with no fixed abode to speak of. The longest she'd stayed anywhere since college had been three months with a sugar daddy in Wine Country who thought he owned her because she liked sleeping with him. Apparently, that had been a messy breakup and why she'd left California last year. All she really needed was in the large bag she rarely let out of her sight, which is why she still had it when the bus left her stranded.
We talked about how school hadn't really worked out for either of us- her going for sexual psychology and my being at college because I was expected to be at college and it not really going anywhere. I think I have my two-year general studies degree in a box somewhere, but I still ignore the Alumni phone calls and emails. Neither of us found it satisfying, or even useful.
Mostly though, we talked about sex- the people we'd been with, the things we tried that worked for us and those that didn't. We talked about the times that things went a little too far and the chances we missed. She told me about working onstage, taking her clothes off for cash and the struggles of making tip-out when you're the new girl in town and only there for a few weeks or months, other dancers being bitchy backstage because she's taking money from them and steering problem clients to her. I talked about sexual adventures brought on by the Sluts app and the opportunities I wasn't even looking for falling into my lap in very unusual places.
I found myself holding her hand as often as I played with her pussy and I felt okay with that.
