Drive 11

Author's Notes:

'Drive' is my story for Literotica's Highway Song story event.

This is another first for me. Dipping my toe into the Loving Wives category... and hoping not to pull back a stump!

Truthfully, considering how volatile this category is (and some of its readers are), I have NO expectations.

It sinks, or it swims, whatever. DAMN the TORPEDOS!

Special thanks to blackrandl1958 for her expert advice and for inspiring this story out of my head. Also, a big thanks to norafares for passing her eyes over this work, as well, to find the gremlins.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

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Drive

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Chapter 1

Pinkie's Diner sat a little too far back from the road, a mistake in the original site surveyor's work. This misfortune turned to opportunity as the new owner had a clever lawyer who sued and wrangled the entirety of the lot behind the diner for his client. The restaurant now had room for future expansion, but better than that, it had room for a truck parking lot. Investing in his client's new business venture, the lawyer had Pinkie's floorplan expanded to handle extra customers, and it quickly became

the

place to stop for a warm meal and great coffee.

Forty years later, it was still the favored place for weary travelers and local residents of Rochester, NY.

One of those residents took a seat on the same stool at the counter he'd parked his ass on for the last seven years. He wasn't a daily visitor; his work had him travel a little too much to be such a frequent visitor. He wasn't sure how this seat was always available when he

did

stop in for breakfast or dinner, but he sent his gratitude to whatever force in the universe made it possible.

"Good morning, Hal."

The man looked up with a smile at the gray-haired waitress smiling at him with a pot of coffee in one hand and a mug in the other.

"Morning, Eve," he replied.

She set the mug before him and poured as she watched his face. With decades of experience, she no longer needed to watch the cup to know when to stop.

"Are you okay, hun?"

A slight snort escaped as Hal looked up once more. Damn perceptive, Eve. He managed a single nod, and she let him get away with that, her experience telling her he wasn't ready to talk.

"Usual?"

He nodded again, and she was off. The woman wrote nothing down yet recalled the orders of all of her regular customers. He marveled once more at her incredible memory.

A single sharp pain flared and just as quickly faded, as his memories nipped at him and slipped away.

He sipped his coffee and watched it move in the mug he held so tightly, like a lifeline.

He had to get out of his head, a dangerous place, so he let his senses spread outwards, picking up the sounds and movements of those around him. It was a skill he'd used to stay alive so many times. Now it was keeping him sane.

The din in the vast space was filled with the high-pitched tink of cutlery on plates, the deeper clunk of mugs on tabletops, the uneven murmur of people speaking, some whispering, and some having no grasp of what

inside voice

meant. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and he took comfort in that—

There

was

one sound, almost imperceptible in its minimal volume. It almost seemed to be hiding. It was higher pitched than the forks and knives that did battle or the spoons that mixed the poisons into perfectly fine black coffee. A repeated tapping, almost a vibrat—it was the sound of trembling.

Rings against a mug.

The sound of fear.

That didn't belong here, and he didn't need to hear it. Not today, of all days.

He made the mistake of looking in the direction of the sound and caught sight of the source. He looked away, cursing himself, but it was too late.

She was sitting two stools to his left, his brain quickly categorizing his scan of her.

Tall, maybe as tall as him. Slim physique with long limbs and long elegant fingers wrapped around her coffee mug. Multiple silver rings, the source of the tapping as her hands were trembling, badly.

She was blonde, and what he'd first taken to be an albino boa constrictor was actually a long braid of her hair. Geezus! That was a lot of hair.

Her eyes were big and soft brown with long lashes. When they flicked in his direction, he saw the pain and fear in them. Smudged makeup from crying. Fading bruises from being hit.

She had slightly protruding canines that hadn't been corrected by expensive braces. Her lips looked soft, though the top one was healing after being split, likely from a hard slap over that sharp tooth.

Her nose was slightly larger than usual, but it balanced her larger eyes and that bite. While not classically beautiful, her face had authentic character, and that was attractive in its own way.

Definitely attractive, except for her body language, which screamed

victim

.

She'd draw every predator within sight of her, and from the bruises, it looked like she already had. He wondered if she was running. It seemed likely. He gauged her to be in her early thirties, almost a decade younger than he was, so he pondered if her current state was a new development or if she'd always struggled to survive.

She wore tight light-blue jeans with rips across her sleek thighs and frayed cuffs over dirty, flat-soled black runners which had seen better days.

The smudged, pink satin jacket barely reached her waist and was worn open. From the side, he'd gotten the impression it might not be able to close, up top at least.

He picked up a male voice behind him talking about the woman. He wasn't the only one recognizing what she was.

The difference was, he wasn't hunting.

Eve arrived with his plate, and he felt a flood of relief for the distraction. He smiled at her and saw the question in her all too knowing eyes. He just shook his head, thanked her, and began to eat.

Eve walked over to stand before the woman. "You sure you don't want anything to eat, hun?"

"No... thank you. Just more coffee, please."

His fork paused on its way back down to his plate, as the woman's deep, sultry voice sent chills down his spine. He hadn't expected that. He wasn't sure what had given it such a gravelly quality, but it was jarring as he'd expected her to have an almost childlike timbre instead.

It still held a note of fear and weariness in it that clawed at him, so he pushed it from his mind and finished up his breakfast. When he was done, Eve was there, ready to take his plate and pour him some more coffee.

"Will I see you again tomorrow?" she asked.

"No, not for a week or so. Going for a long drive," Hal said.

"Another business trip? They run you ragged!" she insisted, making him smile at the concern in her voice.

"Not business. Driving west, to LA. It's personal," he finished awkwardly.

"You're not driving the entire way!" Eve said in surprise. "You'll fly from Buffalo?"

"No, I'm driving. I need the time... to think." Hal pushed back the thoughts that threatened to derail his mind.

"Could-could I get a lift? Just to Erie? I-I have a sister in Pittsburgh. I can get a Greyhound from Erie."

The voice was full of suppressed desperation, yet to his ears, it felt as smooth as honey, poured over gravel. He looked into her soft brown eyes, only slightly glassy from the tears she was holding at bay.

She'd turned on her stool, and he could now see the deep cleavage between her substantial implants. Several thin gold chains were getting lost between those orbs. He picked up her weak attempt to use this view to sway his decision.

Today, of all days... today was not the day to ask him for acts of heroism. Not with the monster inside him whispering pleas to be released. He was in no condition to be the protector of this injured, doe-eyed waif.

He turned his face away and looked down into his coffee. "No."

"

I

can take you to Erie," said a voice behind Hal.

He knew the voice belonged to the same man, likely a long-haul trucker, who'd been quietly making rude comments behind him about the woman's hot body. Hal knew she shouldn't accept.

He could feel the blonde's eyes on him. Eve's as well. He kept his hands on his mug and his eyes down, as dark whispers filled his mind.

"Sure. Thanks."

He felt her acceptance like a whip across his back, and a sudden rage flared.

This wasn't his responsibility.

She

wasn't his responsibility!

He

hadn't cheated... His eyes closed as pain ripped through him once more.

"I just have to use the ladies' room."

"Sure. My rig is parked right behind the restaurant. It's the one with the Queen's Pork Sausage trailer. You can't miss it."

Hal let their voices wash over him as he took slow deep breaths. He drank his coffee, then pushed his mind back into the external awareness mode once more and picked through the sounds to calm himself.

He immediately picked up whispers, but this time, not from within his mind. He tuned everything else out.

"Pete! Where the fuck are you?... Good! Meet me at the rest stop just east of Buffalo. I got another slut. Yeah! Sweet ass and big titties. Yup. We'll do it same as last time..." The voice tapered off as the trucker walked away. Hurrying to prepare the trap.

Shit.

He knew it was a mistake. Based on her tears and trembles, not the first mistake this woman had walked right into.

FUCK!

His mug suddenly exploded into shards between his hands, the dregs of his coffee splashing onto the counter.

Eve was immediately there and wiped up the spill. She collected the bits of the mug as she eyed him cautiously.

"Sorry about that. Put it on my bill," he sighed.

Eve nodded and began to move away. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and touched her arm.

"You need to stop her from going with him."

Eve's eyebrows went up, but she just waited.

He took a breath. "He called his buddy." He took another breath to keep his rage in check. "They're planning to rape her at the next rest stop."

Eve gasped as she lifted her hand to her mouth. Then she looked him in the eye. "Hal, she needs safe passage to Erie."

He blinked at her in confusion. "Yes... that's why you need to tell her not to—"

"You need to take her," Eve insisted. Her tone gave no room for argument.

His mouth opened to protest, but she was giving him the look mothers used on stubborn children. She was expert class.

Except... she didn't know what this child had grown into. She had no idea of the danger—

Eve rushed away, and Hal saw her catch the woman just before she left the building. He saw the woman was only carrying a small pink backpack. The two leaned their heads close together as Eve spoke quietly.

Hal saw the woman jerk back then burst into tears. Eve put an arm around her and led her back towards Hal, whose gut got tighter and tighter the closer they got.

When they were standing before him, he managed to look into the woman's teary eyes. "Erie?" he said, and she nodded weakly. Once more, a victim.

"Okay. I'll get you there," he said gruffly.

Eve gave him a sweet smile as she released her hold on the woman. "Her name is Sam. Sam, this is Hal." They gave each other minimal nods.

He tossed some bills on the counter and looked the waitress in the eye. "When I get back from LA, I want a slice of blueberry pie."

She patted his arm. "Sure thing, hun."

With the smallest of glimpses at the woman, Sam, he headed for the door. He held it for her, and she was right behind him like she was frightened he would leave without her.

Outside, he led her to his rental. As he was crossing the country, he'd splurged on an upgraded car. It was just another sedan but a little bigger and a little more luxurious than he usually got. It even had GPS navigation to warn him of traffic tie-ups along his route.

He opened the door for her, feeling stupid for falling into his old patterns.

She glanced at him in surprise then quickly sat inside. He closed the door then walked around to his door. He glanced back at the diner and saw Eve watching him with a little smile. He frowned in frustration, then got in.

He used his cell to look up the Erie bus station's address and entered it into the GPS. Then he got them on their way, driving onto the highway's westbound onramp. They continued in silence, each trapped in their thoughts.

Sometime later, they passed the rest station where the trucker planned to have his little

party

.

Hal heard Sam begin to cry again, but he did his best to ignore it.

They bypassed Buffalo, but on the outskirts, he pulled off the highway as he was conscious of Sam's discomfort. He drove into the parking lot of a McDonalds and shut the engine. She looked over at him nervously.

"You've been pressing your knees together for the last fifteen miles. I don't have a problem with stopping if you need us to. You just have to tell me. Please use the washroom inside." She nodded in relief, then gave him another worried glance. "Your stomach has been grumbling ever since we left the diner. I'm going in to get you breakfast. What do you want?"

She tried to protest, but her gut squealed.

She smiled in embarrassment. "An Egg McMuffin?"

He nodded and opened his door. Sam scrambled to get out, too. He locked the car then opened the restaurant's door for her. She smiled at his manners then rushed away to use the facilities.

He ordered three of the breakfast sandwiches for her and a few bottles of water for the car.

Hal spotted a teen girl moving quickly for the door carrying a familiar backpack. It had the same tear on the strap Sam's had. This was something he felt comfortable dealing with.

He took two long strides and snagged the bag's carrying loop, tugging it from her grip.

"What the fuck! Give that back!" she screamed at him in full attack mode.

He just stood quietly, watching her eyes.

"I said, give me my bag, asshole!" Her volume was going up, hoping to intimidate him.

"What's going on here?" A deep voice boomed from behind Hal.

"This piece of shit is stealing my bag!" the young girl shrieked, clearly upset that her technique was failing to move him.

The manager moved to stand between Hal and the teen. "Is that true? Did you take her bag?"

"No."

"FUCKER'S LYING! GIMME MY BAG!" she screamed.

Sam suddenly came rushing from the back of the restaurant with a wild look of desperation on her face.

Hal looked away from the teen to face the manager. "The bag belongs to this woman, who was just in your restroom where this thief stole it."

"FUCK YOU!" the girl yelled as she leaped away from the manager's reach and dashed out the door. The big man attempted to catch her, but he was no match for the girl's fleet feet. She ducked around the corner of the building and was gone.

Sam's bottom lip was trembling again as Hal handed over the backpack. He picked up his purchases from the table behind him, then headed outside with Sam following close.

This time he let her open her own door, and she quickly got in.

"Did you do what needed to be done?" he asked, and she nodded. "How did she get the backpack?"

"It was hanging on the hook inside the stall door. I sat down and started. A short time later, she reached over and grabbed it. She did something to the door lock, too. I had trouble opening it." She aimed her big sad eyes at him. "Thank you for getting it back."

He nodded. "Lesson learned. Eat your breakfast." He handed her the bag after taking the water bottles out. He noticed there were no napkins in the bag. "Napkins in the glovebox. Try not to spill any food, please." She just nodded.

Hal got them back on the interstate, and they joined the flow of traffic on 90, heading west along the south shore of Lake Erie. Sam took the opportunity to wolf down her food. She slowed and took her time with the third one, then rested back against the seat, looking a little more relaxed.

"Oh my god. Thank you. I haven't eaten in days," she said in relief.

Hal was feeling a little better himself. It actually felt good to take care of someone else. She was definitely a distraction. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"You're welcome." He glanced over and saw she was watching him. He raised a brow and put his eyes back on the road. "What?"

"You aren't what I expected."

He spared her another glance and saw she was studying him. "What led you to have expectations at all? We've just met." His guilt flared as he knew he'd done the same thing when he first saw her. Though, so far, she hadn't proved his impression wrong.

She seemed surprised by that question. "People... we judge each other with our first glance. That's just... people stuff," she said to explain herself.

"What did you think?" he asked, curious despite his better judgment.

She hesitated, then the words just began to spill forth. "Your clothes are wrinkled like you've slept in them, they're not terribly flattering, and you don't look like you've shaved in a couple of days. I thought maybe you were one of those... invisible people. The ones who never stand out or get noticed. They let the world wash over them and push them around. Now, you seem completely comfortable in your skin. Especially back there at the restaurant. I envy that."

He frowned.

"I'm sorry! There I go putting my foot in my mouth again. I didn't mean to insult you!" she gasped desperately.

He shook his head. "It's okay. I'm not insulted." He paused. "I've had... a bad time the last couple of days. I'm not the best company. It's one of the reasons I'll be driving across the country. Alone with my thoughts."

She was quiet for a moment as she watched his face. "Is... is that why you said no?" she asked quietly.

He grunted quietly. Like saying no had worked out for him. "Yes."

"I'm sorry for intruding... but I'm glad you saved me from those monsters."

He nodded stiffly. Sam didn't understand how close she was to a monster now.

They rode on in silence. The scenery was dull as the Interstate was built for speed, not beauty.

"How long have you been running?"

The question just popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to block it with manners and sensitivity. Maybe it was the monster. It seemed likely. It often surfaced when he wasn't paying attention.

She froze, then glanced over at him then away. "What-what makes you think—"

"Bruises on your face, the split lip, the bruising on your wrist. Not eating for days. Your... behavior in the diner." Hal finally managed to shut himself up as he saw she was getting upset. "It's okay. I'm not judging you. I'm just... observant, and I never know when to keep my mouth shut. Sorry," he finished weakly.

They rode in silence for a while, then she spoke quietly.

"Two days. Frank beat me. Again. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran when he left to go to the club."

"Club?" Hal asked gently.

"The Kitty Club. It's a strip club he manages. I work... worked there."

"Is this Frank coming after you?"

Frightened doe's eyes looked his way. Fuck, those lashes were long! "Probably. Yes."

"Does he just think he owns you, or do you owe him money?" Hal delivered the questions in a matter of fact tone, but inside, he felt the monster shifting, eager and alert.

"Both." She sniffed but seemed to get control once more. "He said I was too old for the stage and not sexy enough to work the bar. He told me I had to get these." She gestured to her implants. "He paid for them."

"Did he say how much they cost?" Hal was getting the picture of how this guy's mind worked. She wasn't getting out from under Frank's thumb.

"He wouldn't tell me," she said with a definite tremble in her already gravelly voice.

"I see. Does Frank know where your sister lives?" he asked. Sam's decision making had been sketchy so far. Hal was concerned she might be leading this violent dirtbag into a confrontation with her sister as well.