I was a bit off the beaten track when I came across her. I was heading west along some back roads and there she was, wearing a big backpack and gamely trudging along. She turned when she heard me coming and stuck out a hopeful thumb.
I was bored and not averse to some company, especially company that was as young and shapely as the pretty little hitchhiker. Besides, it was a long way to the next town, the day was hot and getting hotter and traffic was scarce.
I pulled over and ran the window down. I immediately wished I hadn't as a blast of heat came through, over-riding the air-conditioned coolness I'd been enjoying. The young hiker came hurrying over and looked in and her face promptly fell.
I don't blame her. My face is the sort of face that Hollywood wants for their typical thugs. I looked mean, and when I smiled I looked even meaner. Don't blame me. Blame my parents.
The young woman dithered, plainly desperate for the ride but also plainly reluctant to get into the car with such an obvious thug. I sighed.
"Make up your mind, young lady. I've got a long way to go and you're letting in the heat. If you're worrying about me jumping you, may I point out I could do that here just as easily as further down the track, and I haven't. Too hot by far, I assure you. Either hop in or stand clear."
I slipped the car into gear, ready to drive on as soon as she stepped back, but she surprised me. She gave a small groan and opened the door. I figured she'd decided to take the chance just to get out of the heat for a while.
We drove off, AC working to reduce the heat to an acceptable level, and I coaxed a few words out of her. She was still as nervous as a kitten, but by paying strict attention to the road I was able to get her talking about herself. Everyone considers themselves to be a marvellous topic of conversation.
Her name was Gwendolen, Gwen to her friends. She was nineteen and still a student, studying computer sciences. Not a dill, obviously. She had no current boyfriend and was hiking around seeing something of the country during the long school break.
One subject I made sure to steer clear of was her sex life, if any. Bring that up and she'd probably be jumping out the car while it was still moving.
After about ten miles we came to a service station. I pulled in to top up and grab some cold drinks and something to eat during the next stretch. According to the maps it was nearly a hundred miles to any place of note, and most of that would be through what was practically desert.
I'd assumed that my reluctant passenger would abandon me at this point, but when I asked she wanted to know if she could catch a ride to the next town. I'll admit the service station wasn't my idea of a place to hang out while waiting for a ride. I just shrugged and agreed, assuming she knew what she was doing.
Two assumptions I got wrong out of two. Not only did she want to continue, but she had no idea where we actually were or how far it was to the next town or the countryside we'd be passing through.
We'd just driven off and she was starting to chatter again when we passed this sign. 'You have just passed the last food and fuel for 87 miles.'
She went dead quiet when she read that, finally twigging that she was heading into a lonely area with a stranger who resembled a mafia thug. A low class mafia thug.
As we drove, I could practically hear her nerves twanging. She was edging closer to the door until she was practically plastered against it, and quite frankly I was finding the whole thing irritating and insulting.
Topping one hill we came upon a stretch of road that seemed to run in a straight line to the horizon, and not another car could be seen on the full length of it. I put my foot down and we streaked along. I do like to drive fast occasionally. After five minutes we were in the middle of nowhere, nothing in front of us or behind us as far as we could see.
This was the ideal place to relieve my nervous passengers mind. I pulled over.
"Why are you stopping?" came the expected query.
I just held up a finger in a wait a moment sign and hopped out the car. I circled the car and opened her door.
"Out," I said.
She was pale but she got out. Before she could step away I spun her around so she was facing the car, pushing her head down and in so she was bent over the seat. I could feel her quivering with fright, but she was biting her lip and not saying anything. I reached around and flicked open the button off her shorts and with a quick jerk they came down, followed seconds later by her panties.
Leaning over her I whispered in her ear.
"Do you know what I'm going to do now?"
She gave a little sob and nodded.
"I doubt it. What I'm going to do is not rape you," I said. I gave her bottom a light swat. "I suggest you pull your panties up, sit down and stop panicking over nothing."
She spun around to face me, absolutely livid. To my amusement she was so angry she even forgot to pull up her pants first.
"If you weren't going to rape me, what was all this about, you callous bastard," she screamed at me. "I almost died when you pulled by pants down."
I looked pointedly at her pretty pussy, and she blushed red and hastily snatched at her panties.
"I was making the point that I could if I wanted to, but that I don't want to. You have no need to panic. You can sit in the car and relax."
"What do you mean you don't want to? What's wrong with me?"
If there had been a brick wall handy I probably would have started banging my head against it. Woman can be so contrary.
"There's nothing wrong with you. You're just not my type. Why don't you just get in the car so we can go."
"Oh. Are you gay? I'm sorry, I hadn't realised. I didn't mean to upset you."
