Back Over The Mountain

Driving over the mountain to my house during the late fall and in the pitch dark of night is often dangerous. The narrow road twists up around the mountain, a steep drop-off on one side with enough space for two vehicles to barely pass each other. The road doesn't get much better after the mountain as it twists and turns through narrow dips and around hills. Signs posted warning drivers of sharp turns are usually ignored. Seeing cars stranded on the side of the road after some cocky driver lost control is not unusual.

Late at night there's not enough light to see past one's own headlights. In the rain its worse with no moon to help, the fog pressing around, and the slick road threatening to send a car sliding off the road.

One particular night was just such a bad night. It didn't help things that I had been drinking. After a day wiring up electricity at a home in a new modern development going up near the city, I had gone to a bar with some other guys. A few beers and some shots of whiskey always helped to loosen us up. Plus, there was a waitress, Simone, I had a thing for and I wanted to see if I could wear her down further. I didn't. All I got for my wooing and excessive tipping was a case of blue balls, a lighter wallet, and taunts from the other guys.

I left the bar frustrated, tired, and more inebriated than I should have been to attempt driving back to my house, located in a secluded area far away from the city and the urban sprawl swallowing up everything around it. I drove anyway and was handling it fine. I had got over the mountain and was only a few miles from my house when I saw a car lying upside down several yards from the side of the road as I went around a particularly sharp turn. I assumed the car had been there for a while, some driver taking the turn too fast and lost control. I forgot as soon as it was no longer in my headlights, at least until I saw the driver, when I almost ran over her.

I was driving slowly, leaning forward, peering into the cone of light my headlights cut through the rain, darkness, and fog. I knew the road well enough to know how fast I could take the turns and took them even slower to be safe. Suddenly a bright white shape was reflected in the lights on the outside of my lane. I twisted the wheel away from it, avoided hitting it, and then yanked back as my truck steered off the other side of the road. I released the accelerator and touched the brakes lightly as my tires caught the dirt off the road. My rear tire spun in the dirt and the truck twisted to the side. I turned the wheel with the slide, pulling the truck back onto the road, where it finally came to rest in the middle of the road.

My heart was pounding and my hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles hurt. My truck was sitting sideways in the middle of the road and I had enough sense to drive the truck to the side of the road, facing the way I had come. I sat still to let my heart slow and calm down. Luckily I hadn't been too drunk that I couldn't keep control of my truck. I started to wonder what I had seen and almost hit and knew it was a person, a woman, and as I looked out the front window I saw her slowly enter the headlights, emerging from the fog.

She was still in the middle of the lane, weaving as she walked, stumbling. She wore a long white cotton dress, which seemed to reflect the lights into my eyes so that I had to squint. Her long, dark hair was plastered to her head, face, and shoulders. Her bare feet kicked out from under her dress, seeming to barely grip the road like it was tilting back and forth. If another vehicle came along she could be killed.

I jumped out of the truck and hurried over to her.

"Ma'am, you need to get out of the road," I said as I approached her.

She didn't look at me, her face turned down to the road, and just kept walking.

"Ma'am?" I said, standing beside her.

She didn't reply. I moved in front of her and she stopped.

"Ma'am, are you ok?" I asked.

She still didn't reply or even look up at me, just stood still in front of me.

"You need to get out of the road," I said.

I touched her shoulders and pushed her to the side of the road and towards my truck. She let herself be led off of the road in front of my truck. I sighed with relief just to have her out of the road. A situation that could have easily been a disaster had been avoided and we were both safe, but she didn't look well.

I stared down at her, my hands on her shoulders. I could feel her shivering. Her body felt cold through the dress, wet from the drizzle and fog.

I put a finger under her chin and turned her face up to me. I brushed the strands of wet hair stuck to her face. She was beautiful or at least would have been if her skin wasn't pale from shock and cold, her lips blue and trembling, her eyes dilated. Blood glistened on one cheek and the side of her face, matted into her hair.

"Let's get you out of this weather," I said.

I led her to the side of the truck and opened the passenger door.

"Hop up into my truck," I said.

She didn't respond. Her head had dropped back down. She swayed on her feet.

"I'll help you," I said.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her shivering body against me. I leaned my check against her wet hair for a moment and then lifted her up. I sat her on the bench seat and released her slowly, leaning her side against the back of the seat. I stepped back, grabbed her legs, and lifted them into the truck. Her dress had a long slit down the side which fell apart, leaving her leg bare to the hip. Impulsively, I slid my hand down her thigh to her knee, feeling that cramp in my stomach, that feeling from unexpected immediate arousal. I swallowed hard, pushed her leg further into the truck and then closed the door.

I stood by the side of the truck, for the first time feeling the cold dampness, and I shivered. I pushed any thoughts out of my head, walked around the truck to the driver side, and jumped in, slamming the door behind me. I sat for a moment, staring through the window, rubbing my hands around the steering wheel, back and forth, agitated and shivering.

"This is a bad night," I muttered.

I sat there, shivering, staring at nothing, thinking nothing, feeling something I didn't want to feel. Confused, aroused, angry, all from such a small thing. I could still feel the smoothness of her thigh on my palm, even as I rubbed it over the steering wheel as if trying to erase it.

"A bad night," I repeated.

The chattering of my teeth brought me out of my own distractions. I turned up the heat and rubbed my hands in front of the vent. I concentrated on rubbing heat back into my cold fingers, not wanting to look at her and deal with her presence in my truck, right beside me on the bench seat.

I forced myself to look at her and she was sitting still as I had placed her in the seat, her body turned away from me a bit, the length of her leg still bare, glistening wet. I reached over and threw the dress over her leg, covering it. I felt better then and straightened her so she was laying back against the seat. She was like a doll, pliant in my hands.

"Can you hear me at all?" I asked her.

She didn't respond or turn to look at me. Her eyes were open, staring at the dashboard. I grabbed her chin and turned her face towards me. I looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, a sign of shock. I reached into the small space behind the seat and pulled out a clean towel from the stack I kept there. I wiped away the moisture from her face. I carefully wiped the blood from her face and hair, searching for the wound. I found a bump and cut on the side of her head. It had already clotted, so I wiped away the rest of the blood, causing her to twitch when I touched the bump.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

I dried her hair as best I could, being careful to not rub her bump again, searching for more bumps or cuts. She was shivering hard, her teeth chattering.

"I think you took a bad hit on the head," I said and then remembered the over-turned car I had passed. "I guess that was your car I passed. If so, you're lucky to be alive and lucky to be walking." She didn't respond, but I felt better just talking. I threw the wet and bloody towel back behind the seat.

I looked at her, shivering, blank, and wondered what to do. She needed to be taken to a hospital. She probably had a concussion and was obviously in shock. She might have other injuries, though couldn't have been bad if she was able to get out of the car and walk. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere else. I had to get her to a hospital, but the closest one was on the other side of the mountain,, as much as an hour away in that weather. She could get worse in that time. She was shivering hard and seemed to be barely conscious. She could have other problems that needed to be tended, maybe bleeding somewhere I couldn't see.

"I wish you'd talk to me. Even just look at me," I said, but of course she didn't respond. "I'll take you to the hospital, but it's a bit of a drive, especially in this weather." I gestured out the window, where the rain had picked up from a drizzle and the fog seemed to have thickened. "I think we need to get you dry and warm now, for the drive there. I don't know what could happen otherwise. I don't understand these things, but you're already in shock, you're shivering, you've had a bad shock, sitting here cold and wet can't be good for you." I hesitated, glancing at her, looking for a sign of awareness and seeing nothing. "I wish you could do it yourself."

I sighed deeply. I looked out the window and wrapped my hands around the steering wheel tightly. I felt the muscles in my arms contract and bulge as I gripped the wheel tighter and tighter. I always enjoyed the feel of my own body. The sensations of the body always felt more real and natural than the thoughts and emotions in my head. I always preferred to act than to think, to react than to feel.

I let go of the wheel and pulled out two towels from behind the seat. I moved closer to her across the seat. My truck is large with a big bench seat, but still pretty tight to be attempting to care for a shocked, basically unconscious, person, but I had to do the best I could.

"I'm going to take your dress off," I said, barely able to say the words as a lump caught in my throat. "I need to dry you off. I need to get you dry and warm. I'm afraid you'll get worse before I get you to the hospital. Is that ok?" She didn't reply and by then I didn't expect her to reply.

The dress had several buttons down the front and I started unbuttoning them. She was shaking even harder than before. I was afraid this was a bad sign that she was getting worse, maybe hypothermia. The buttons went down to her stomach. Without thinking I pushed the dress off of her shoulders and down her arms. Her breasts were bare, she wore no bra. Her nipples were pink and hard from the cold. I tried to avert my eyes as I pushed the dress down to her waist.

I yanked it down past her waist and under her butt. She was limp, leaning and tilting in any direction I pushed her to free her from the dress. I expected her to grab me, to try to stop me, but she still made no response. I pulled the dress down her legs and then let it drop on the floor in front of the seat. She was entirely nude but for a pair of white panties, which I decided to leave on.

The cab of the truck was getting hot. I was sweating. The hot air from the vents made her drying hair blow around her shoulders and face. I grabbed a towel and began drying her body with it. I rubbed the towel over her shoulders, down each arm, leaned her forward and rubbed her back. I dried her front, her breasts, her stomach, wrapped the towel around her butt and pulled it beneath her. I leaned over further, the sound of her chattering teeth directly in my ear. I dragged the towel down one leg, dried her foot, then the other leg and foot.

As I dried her I felt the presence of her body more with my chest and stomach than with my hands. My hands were merely tools for accomplishing the task and proceeded with efficiency. But as I leaned over her further I felt the desire to press myself against her, feel her body against mine. So much bare skin, that I want to luxuriate in it, devour it.

When I leaned up from drying her last foot, I pressed my cheek to her chest. I rubbed my cheek against her breast. I could hear her heart beating. I touched my lips to her nipple. I dropped the towel across her lap and slid a hand up her hip and side. Her skin shook as she shivered, goose bumps rippled across her skin. I nuzzled my face against her neck, smelling her. I touched my teeth to her skin and then snapped back away from her.

"You're not an animal," I hissed at myself.

I wiped my hand across my mouth, wiping the feel of her skin from my lips. I grabbed the wet towel from her lap and threw it behind the seat. I kept a blanket in case the truck broke down in the cold night, something that had happened once when I hadn't had the blanket, and hadn't happened since then.

I pulled the blanket behind her back and then wrapped it around her front. I pulled it under her butt and then closed it as tightly as I could. She was wrapped as tightly and warmly as I could get her. I picked up her dress from the floor and lay it across the back of the seat between us so it could dry some.

I checked the heat, making sure it was blowing on her feet to get them warm, and then set back in my seat. Sweat was dripping from my face. I shut the vents on my side and wiped the sweat from my face. I sat for a moment, staring out the window, clenching the steering wheel, trying to remember what I was to do next, feeling confused and agitated.

"Let's just get you to the hospital," I mumbled.

I put the truck into gear and peered into that cone of light again as I got the truck back on the road. I drove carefully though I felt rushed, wanting to get her to the hospital, wanting to get her out of my truck and out of my life.

As I drove, I had to force my attention onto the road as my thoughts wandered. I thought of the last time I had been so close to a woman. I had been pursuing Simone for some time, but so did every other guy that walked into that bar, she wasn't about to settle for me. There had been a couple of whores over the past couple of years, but those had always been unsatisfying, leaving me feeling more guilty than satisfied. It had been a few years since my wife left me and I had been able to truly indulge myself with a woman.

I tried to not think of her, but my ex-wife often came to my mind. I had thought often of the excuses she had given me as she had left. She had said that I was an animal, that I gave into my impulses too easily, that I was just a body with no mind, that I always gave my body what it wanted, didn't think, didn't resist, indulged it, that when she looked at me she just saw a beast, a mass of flesh and meat with desires and no thoughts. When we had sex it was like I was always just taking her, using her. At one time she had liked it that way, had come with me as she never had before me, but in time it didn't do it for her anymore. It hadn't just been sex. I ate whatever I wanted, going through phases where I would eat whatever food my body wanted then, indulging myself on it until I became sick of it and indulged in the next thing. I became heavier. To compensate I began exercising more, lifting weights, running, and I became hard, loving the feel of my body exerting itself, pushing it harder and harder. At times I would drink heavily, drinking beer like it was water. My tastes never moved towards drugs because those just affected the mind, I was always concentrated on my body. She said that's all I was, just a body, mindless and dumb. She wanted more. She had already found more and she would go to him.

I let her go. I didn't fight her. I didn't even argue with her. I didn't agree with her, but I didn't argue, at least not with her, only with myself. For a while after our divorce I thought about what she had said and denied it. I wasn't that indulgent with myself. Then I came to realize that I was. As I tried to deny myself the things I wanted my body became a prison, my desires drowned my brain so that I couldn't concentrate on the simplest things. I almost lost my job. I became depressed.

I had been fighting the depression that weighed me down, fighting my own wants, but I had found no relief. I was a tightly wound coil of agitation and anger. I despised the world and those around me as I never had before. It was wrong. I know that now. To deny myself the things I wanted was wrong. It's not natural. It's not a part of us to deny those things we want, it's taught to us. We're told doing the things we enjoy is sinful, that we hurt ourselves, we hurt others, we disgrace ourselves, we dishonor the gods, we must control ourselves, deny ourselves. We're told that strength comes from denying ourselves. But that's all bullshit. It's weakness to deny one's self, it's giving into fear, letting fear drive you. Those led by fear are not strong.

During the drive back to the hospital I had only the beginning of that understanding. As I drove I could feel the woman's presence beside me. I could feel her trembling slow, until it stopped altogether and she sat still, leaning against the door. I stole glances at her from time to time, but dared to not look away from the road until I had crossed the mountain. Once I had left the mountain behind, the road straightened, the rain slowed to a drizzle, and the fog thinned, I began to relax and my eyes began to linger on her more.

I became comfortable with her nude presence in my truck. Concentrating on my driving had eased the tension. I was less worried about her once she had stopped shivering. The worse for her was probably over, there was only getting her to the hospital and I felt I was no longer in a rush to get her there.

She was still wrapped up tightly in the blanket, only her legs bare from just above the knee down to her toes. I reached towards her, put my arm around her waist, and pulled her towards me. She slid across the seat some and then fell against me.

"Are you warm enough?" I asked.

She didn't respond and just lay limply in my arm. I rubbed my hand and arm up and down her side and back.

"You're not shivering anymore," I said.

I slid my hand up and down the curve of her side, her waist, her hip, her butt, the gentle curve that defines a woman's body.

I drove past new housing developments and shopping centers as I approached the hospital. Traffic lights were blinking yellow or red. The fog had thickened some here as the rain stopped. The streets were quiet at such a late hour and I saw few other vehicles.

Her head was leaning against my shoulder and I rubbed my cheek against her hair. She smelled of her soap and the dampness of dried rain, distinctly feminine and warm, comfortable. I kissed the top of her head and then inhaled her deeply.

My hand grabbed the blanket, pulling it from under her, opening it so I could touch the bare flesh of her hip. I trembled and sighed deeply, kneading her skin, tracing the line of her hip bone underneath. I pulled her closer to me and my fingers searched around her body for her stomach, caressing her belly button, then down, brushing her pubic hair and across her thigh.

I pushed against the steering wheel, sitting up straighter, trying to force myself to watch the road.

"We're almost there," I whispered.

I slid my hand up and down her thigh, pressing the side of her body against me tightly. I traced the line of her inner thigh with my fingertips and then gripped her tightly, wrapping my hand around her thigh.

I made a turn and saw the hospital just down the road. I felt panic as I thought of finally getting there, releasing her, not touching her anymore, not having her. I had wanted rid of her, but once I had started touching her, held her, I didn't want to let her go. I slid my hand up and wrapped my arm around her waist and stomach tightly. I pressed her head into my shoulder and neck.