She kept looking at him and smiling. He had just come into the roadside bar to get a beer and get cool in the AC. He had been hitching for the past 4 hours and he was tired and very hot.
The bar was your typical small town, middle of nowhere, country redneck bar with a combination of farmers and bikers and all around low rent types. The bar was built in kind of a horse shoe shape up against one side, and several small booths and tables filled the rest of the place. There was a tiny dance floor and a couple of pool tables in the back. He was seated at the end of the bar farthest from the door. He never liked to have his back to a door just in case. The trucker that he had been riding with had let him off at the Highway 4 and 21 crossroads just outside when the trucker started to turn east. The drifter was headed for California. Someday. Eventually. In time.
She was seated directly across the bar from him just below the large flat-screen showing the latest ESPN news. He had noticed her several times as she got up from her place at the bar and walked past him toward the back. She was about 25, maybe 26. Hard to tell. She was wearing a short blue jean skirt that showed off some good legs. She had on a small halter top that was struggling to hold her big tits in place. She was a typical, Mid-western corn fed farm girl with wide hips and big boned. She was attractive, blond, dumb, way too impressed with herself, and looking to cause some trouble.
During the time, he had been sitting there nursing his beer and cooling off in the AC, she had come and gone to the back, but always returned to her bar stool, and smiled at him with a coy, come-hither stare. There weren't that many people in the bar. It was still only about 5 in the afternoon. It would still be light for several hours at this time of the summer. He had no place to go and nothing to do, so maybe she might be worth a run. At worst, she might let him sleep on her floor if he played his cards right.
He thought this to himself as she once more crossed by him toward the back. He was focused on the TV as some spray painted sportscaster blabbed on about the Yanks and the Red Sox. He was thinking about buying another beer when he noticed her walk back around the bar. He noticed the way her short skirt flipped up in the back as her wide hips swayed and her big tits shifted in her skimpy top. She sat on her stool, and picked up her drink. As she raised the glass to her glossy bubble-gum pink lips, she peered at him over the top of the glass with a wicked look in her eye.
He didn't like that look. She was up to something, and he felt the danger coming from behind him. He was about to throw his money on the bar and leave, but it was too late.
"Hey, motherfucker! What you looking at?"
The drifter turned and looked over his shoulder at the two men standing behind him with rage in their eyes.
"Do you mean me?"
"Yeah asshole, I mean you! What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
"Nothing man! What's the problem?"
"You are making eyes at my woman, and it's gonna stop right now."
"Hey, I am just sitting here drinking my beer and trying to stay cool."
"Well, mister cool man, I seen you look at her. I seen her smile at you. That don't play around here."
"Hey man, I'm sorry! No offense! I don't want any trouble, okay."
"Too late, motherfucker! Trouble's here!"
The drifter turned slowly around on his stool and faced the two men. The boyfriend was a stocky, beefy guy about 5'11". He looked strong, but he also looked fat and drunk. The guy behind him was tall and thin, but carried a pool cue in his hand. What few people that were in the bar were staring in their direction. The room was silent except for George Jones croaking on the jukebox.
"Hey Ron, back off. I don't want a fight in here!" the female bartender said behind the drifter.
"Shutup, bitch! I'm gonna kick this guy's ass," the boyfriend yelled at the bartender.
"Look mister, we don't have to do this," the drifter said slowly.
"Oh yeah, we do," the boyfriend said.
The drifter noticed the boyfriend shift his weight to get more balance. He was getting ready to throw a punch. The tall guy took a step back to give the boyfriend more room. The boyfriend telegraphed his punch long before he actually threw it. The punch was a wild, wide looping swing, and the drifter easily stepped inside of it and blocked it with his left arm. At the same time, he brought his open right hand directly into the boyfriend's nose. He felt the nose cartilage crumble and break under his hand as the boyfriend's nose exploded in shower of blood and snot. As soon as the right landed, the drifter had dropped his left shoulder and brought his fist up from somewhere around his knees. The left upper-cut caught the boyfriend square on the chin with a hard pop, and his head snapped back. Good-night! The boyfriend was out on his feet, and he crashed to the floor in a heap.
The tall guy was caught completely by surprise, but he tried to bring the pool cue up to swing it. The drifter kicked out his right boot and it landed in the tall man's stomach. The tall man went flying backward, and crashed into a table behind him. He fell back over the table and landed on the pool cue which snapped in half. The tall man slowly climbed to his feet, and turned around. He was shaken and a little stunned, but he still had one end of the broken cue in his right hand. He started swinging it back and forth as he approached the drifter. The drifter quickly did a round house kick that caught the tall guy right in the face and sent him crashing to the floor again. He quickly grabbed the hand with the pool cue, and delivered three rapid short jabs into the tall guy's face and he was out.
The whole fight had taken about 30 seconds at most, and the two men lay broken on the floor. The entire room was still except for George Jones singing. No one moved or said anything. The drifter turned around to look at the bartender, and she just looked at him with fear in her eyes. It was time to go and fast. He reached under his stool and picked up his knapsack and threw it over his shoulder. He put a five down on the bar and headed for the door. He crossed out into the late afternoon heat and headed across the gravel parking lot. He was going to head down the road toward the Interstate and hoped to catch a ride before the police came, or the two guys woke up and came looking for him. He was halfway across the lot, when a voice called out for him.
"Hey, where you going?"
He looked over his shoulder and saw the girl running after him. Her big tits bouncing with every step she took. She stopped about 10 feet from him. She ran her fingers through her hair, moving it out of her eyes. Her eyes were a very clear blue.
"Where you going?" she asked again.
"I am getting the fuck out of here. When they come too, they are going to kill me."
"You from around here?"
"No. I am headed for the Interstate. Just passing through."
"I'll give you a ride. That is my truck over there," she said pointing at a late model Ford pick-up parked in front of the bar.
"I thought you were with the dumbasses."
"I am, but what you did in there was so hot! Wow! I have never seen anything like that. Where'd you learn that?"
"The Marines. So you are going to give me a ride to the freeway?"
"Yeah. Sure. Come on."
She turned and started for the pickup. He watched her ass move and her tits bounce as she ran for the truck. Well, he could do much worse and he had to get out of here now. So... He followed her toward the truck, threw his knapsack into the back, and climbed in. She put the key in and turned it. The big V-8 roared to life and she threw it into reverse. The truck shot back into the gravel lot and skidded to a halt. Then she threw it into drive and punched the gas, and the truck went screaming out of the lot and onto the highway barely missing an oncoming car.
He quickly looked at her to see what other scary automotive trick she was going to try, and his eyes stayed there. She was smiling a great big grin as the hot dry air blew through her hair. Her sizable chest was rising and falling in excitement, and her nipples were pushing through the thin material of her halter like two pencil points. She was turned on by all of this. He was riding with a nut-job!
"So what is your name?" she yelled over the roaring engine as they flew down the highway.
"Hank. How's about you?"
"Linda," she said as she turned her head and smiled at him. She was actually pretty with her blond hair, blue eyes and white smile. Pretty in a trailer park kind of way. "So, Hank, where you from?"
"No where around here. Just drifting through on my way West."