The weather was too nice to be stuck on a motorway, but the weekend was over and despite the weather everyone has to go back to work. I'd been visiting my parents and that meant a 200-mile drive each way. But it was worth it as they live near the beach, which is where I spent most of my time "admiring" the view.
I sat in my car flicked the air-con on and waited for the cool air the make the inside of the car bearable. I'm not tall for a man about 5'8", so my seat is quite close to the wheel. As such only the passengers' vent is open; I don't like fast jets of icy air blowing at me, and it can blow my long hair across my face while driving.
As I began to pull out of the services I noticed a woman by the road holding up a sign, as I approached I could see the name "Windsor" written neatly. That's where I live, maybe I could help her out, have a bit of company in the car. Nice legs too.
I pulled up next to her and let the electric window wind itself down. All I could see was midriff, her dark blue one-piece disappeared under the top of the khaki combat shorts. She leant down and peered in. I looked out and a pair of brown eyes with an occasional deep wrinkle around them met my gaze, along with the laugh-lines I guessed she was in the early to mid forties compared to my 28. Her hair was short and spiky blonde, slight roots showed it wasn't natural.
"I live in Windsor, I could take you all the way." I tried to give a re-assuring smile. I was being genuine. She smiled, "I bet you could," I felt myself blush a little at the inadvertent pun, "okay.". She went to open the door. "Why not put you bag in the boot?" I said. "Good idea."
When she sat next to me I got my first chance to have a good look at her. She had an inch on me in height with an athletic look. There was a darkened patch of sweat forming a "V" between her breasts which were probably a B or C cup. There was no support for them under her one-piece. It occurred to me, the one-piece, shorts and her sandals were the only clothes she had on. It took all of five minutes for the continuous blast of cold air to form two bullets in her top.
We moved out on to the motorway and set off. We spoke about the weather and what we had been up to on the weekend. Her name was Karen and I introduced myself s John. She was visiting her sister. She had thrown her husband out the month before and, "The bastard took the car", in her words, so she was hitching.
"Why didn't you take the train?" I asked, turning to face her looking down, then up. She was looking straight at me, my eyes rapidly returned to the road. "Who talks to a stranger on the train?" She replied. Her voice was warm and friendly.
We were passing junction 8/9, only a few more miles to go before our exit. I asked what her husband had done for her to throw him out. I was surprised to find it wasn't an affair, quite the opposite. "Dead from the waist down" was repeated several times. She took marriage seriously, but the pressures had built up until she had had enough and threw him out. She hadn't found anyone yet, that she fancied enough to break her vows with. I felt it was still some sort of barrier for her. Being a typical single male, I simply stated - "What does it matter who it is so long as they're nice!?". She smiled again, I felt myself warming to that smile.
At that point the conversation turned.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked. "No." "Why not?" "Once bitten, twice shy." "Oh, she played away then?" "Oh Yes!" I said bluntly with sarcasm and bitterness mixed in for good measure. "I'm sorry." She put her hand on my thigh, I flinched and momentarily pressed the clutch down. "Er, sorry." She blushed and removed her hand. "That's okay." My face would have reddened, but my blood was moving elsewhere. "How long ago?" "Two years ago." "My god! She must have bitten hard." "Only when I wanted here too." I grinned.
