A special thanks to Jackbro for contributing to this wicked tale...
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Chapter 1
Jake Gibbons had never driven in anything like this.
The rain would not relent, pouring down so hard on his windshield he thought it might cave in. This was a deluge, and Interstate 80 became harder and harder to see in the darkness.
"God dammit," the tired motorist mumbled to himself, "this is unbelievable."
Home was only an hour away, but he feared he might end up in a ditch on the side of the road if he kept driving.
He squinted as hard as he could to maintain focus on the road ahead of him, the yellow dividing line his only friend right now.
Mile signs kept coming up, one after the other, and they served as some comfort that Jake was getting closer to his destination, and further away from this awful storm.
Thunder boomed in the distance, and the rain was coming down even harder. He didn't like to put the windshield wipers at full speed, but in this case they couldn't go fast enough.
The mile 38 sign came up - 40 miles from home, he realized.
He had turned the radio off earlier to block out any distractions, but he couldn't help but turn it right back on again, trying to get his mind off the worst storm he had ever driven in.
"It's not supposed to rain like this in California," he said to himself.
He flicked the radio on, and immediately there was talk of the 49ers' miraculous win in the NFC Championship Game that day, a game Jake had to miss because of this very business trip.
The niners fan thought of Dwight Clark hauling in the game-winning catch, the recount of the game making it sound like he had jumped 20 feet in the air to bring it in.
"Sucks I missed that," he said to himself.
But poor Jake did not want to start 1982 by crashing his station wagon into a tree, so again, he focused hard.
The radio went back off again. Can't listen to that right now. Just 30 miles from home.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the rain let up, reduced to a drizzle, and Jake had a clear path home to see his beautiful wife, Bonnie.
Her soft, long brown hair, her big brown eyes, her lovely breasts, pushing against that tight white niners t-shirt Jake bought her for Christmas this year.
But then, his happy thoughts were interrupted.
Glug, glug, glug.
Was it?
It couldn't be.
Glug, glug, glug.
No way.
The car tilted to one side. The back felt lower than the front.
Glug, glug, glug.
"No fucking way," he mumbled in disgust.
Jake pulled over to the side of the deserted road. Ironically, it had stopped raining, but upon examining the rear driver's side tire, poor Jake saw he had a flat.
No spare in his trunk. Nobody around. No house or business in sight.
Chapter 2
All he could do was keep walking.
There has to be a gas station coming up soon.
Jake wasn't very familiar with Interstate 80. It just seemed like a long, dark road surrounded by nothing but trees and fields.
He thought of jogging to speed things up, but was too tired. It had been such a long day, and now his journey was taking him deep into the night. It was 10:30. Bonnie was expecting him home by 8.
He remembered his track days in college. He used to be able to run five miles a day back then. But 10 years and a lot of beers later, he would have to settle to walk, not jog, the deserted highway.
He kept looking at his watch. It was now 11.
He saw a curve up ahead. It seemed a long ways away. Maybe something was around that curve. A house, a person, a car, any sign of life!
All he needed was to get to a phone. Jake just wanted to call whatever local mechanic there was, get the car towed and take a cab home. But there was still no phone in sight.
Here it comes. The curve. Jake really didn't want to make it around the curve and just see more empty highway. There has to be a gas station up ahead.
He jogged out of anticipation.
Finally, up ahead, he saw a lighted building. Off the road a bit. He couldn't tell if it was a business or a home, but it was something.
Jake kept jogging. He never felt in better shape all of a sudden. The thrill of getting home gave him new life.
He soon realized that it was not a home. It was a mansion. He counted the windows on the second floor - must be 10 bedrooms he thought to himself.
It was almost midnight, but he had to hope someone was up.
He walked up the long, gravel driveway and calmly knocked on the fancy front door.
He knocked again.
Dammit, somebody answer, he thought.
And then Jake heard someone unlocking the door, turning the knob, and all of a sudden there was a beautiful woman right in front of him.
"Howdy stranger," she said, dressed in an elegant gown and holding a glass of what looked like champagne.
"Uh, hi," he stammered, "I am so sorry to bother you, especially this late, but my car broke down up the road, and was hoping I could use your phone."
"Oh of course, sweetie," she said, "you seem harmless enough."
She welcomed him in very politely, and the woman soon went on about the formal party she had just thrown for about 20 or so guests.
"I'm Dawn McKenzie," she said, shaking his hand. "You might of heard of my former husband, Reginald Rooland, oil tycoon?"
Jake never heard of him, but pretended he did. Some rich oil guy. The two had moved to California, eventually got divorced, and the wife got the house in the settlement.
Pretty sweet deal. But she was as smart as she was stunning. The buxom brunette was a wiz in a business of her own, and intent on building it up as big as she could.
She owned a clothing line, and the dress she was wearing was evidence of her excellent taste. Jake just knew it was low-cut, red, and it showed off her great legs.
When the two sat down on the sofa in the family room, Dawn crossed one leg over the other, her thighs practically right in Jake's face.
He had to pull his eyes away from those stocking-clad beauties and go about dialing the phone. Dawn gave him the number of a local mechanic, but informed him he would probably not be around. She was so kind she offered him a room for the night.
Jake tried the mechanic, but all it did was ring and ring. He phoned Bonnie to let her know he would be spending the night at a hotel, not wanting to worry her that he was at a stranger's house, much less a sexy divorcee who had amazing legs and was probably good and drunk.
"So you got stuck in that awful storm?" she asked him, taking a sip of her drink.
"Well, just as it stopped raining, that's when I saw I had a flat," he said. "I walked a pretty good ways. Where am I anyway?"
"You wouldn't be able to find it on a map, sweetie, I can tell you that much," she joked. But in a way, she was right.
Jake glanced around the spacious family room, seeing a large television, a gorgeous glass coffee table, and on that table were a pile of magazines. Seemed normal enough.
But upon further inspection, as he went through them trying to find a sports mag of some sort, one periodical caught his attention.
Playgirl.
"Oh goodness me," the woman said. "Did I leave that one out? You'll have to forgive me - I finally bought a subscription to the thing so I can't seem to put it down."
Playgirl? Jake didn't even know there was such a thing. There was actually a female answer to the famous Playboy magazine?
"First published in 1973," Dawn explained, quickly showing that she was not only an avid fan of the magazine, but a bit of a historian. "But to this day, do you know they still shy away from showing full erections?"
Jake squirmed a bit, and actually blushed.
"I suppose you're talking about buildings?" he asked with a laugh.
"Oh my, you're funny. I'm gonna have to keep my eye on you," she joked back.
Dawn crossed those gorgeous legs again. She even accidentally pulled up her dress a bit, showing more of her well-rounded thighs.
"I don't mean to be brazen with my choice of conversation," she said. "It's just the champagne. Here I am talking to a complete stranger about erections! My goodness, I need to go to sleep soon."
Jake laughed politely, and on the inside was even starting to find a little amusement in this whole episode.
Dawn took off her high-heel shoes, gently rubbing her small, sexy feet against the carpet, moaning as she did so. "Mmm, that feels good," she said. "I've been on my feet all day. The party I had must have gone on for eight hours or so. Many of my best friends, and some co-workers that I like enough to invite to the gala. Such a good time. Everyone dressed in their Sunday best."
"Mostly couples I guess?" Jake asked.
"Oh, no, all women," Dawn replied. "Sort of like a formal girls night out, only when you have a place like this, why go out?"
Seemed sensible enough. Only Jake couldn't imagine what 20 or so women would do for several hours at one of their friend's houses. Much less get all dressed up for it.
"Oh Jeez, where are my manners? Would you like a drink?" Dawn asked her house guest. "We have just about everything."
"Oh I don't want you to go to the trouble," the gentleman responded.
"No trouble at all. I'll just have Victor fetch us a round," she said.
Victor? Who is Victor? Jake was thoroughly confused. But then it occurred to him - a place like this, she must have a butler of some sort. A very different sort.
"Victor," she lightly yelled, "darling can you come here?"
Jake expected to see an older gentleman, maybe Alfred from Wayne Manor. An old grandfather type.