"I hope you understand, Dave. This job is what I've been working for all of my life and I can't mess it up." Sitting across from me in the restaurant, Dad had explained that, for the remainder of the year, he would be engaged nearly exclusively in work. "A lot of eighteen hour days," he had said. He apologized that he wouldn't have much time for me and that I'd have to fend for myself.
Offering to help any way that I could, I explained that I understood how important the job was.
"I appreciate that offer Dave, but it probably won't be necessary since I'll be bringing on some experienced tool workers." He told me that I should just keep cleaning up and helping the way I had done. "After all," he said, "it's your last summer before college. You deserve a little free time." After a moment he added, "I think that you'll need to use the car. Take it up to Dallas or down to Houston some weekend if you want to."
There had been no mention of sex during the entire meal. In fact, it was as though nothing had happened since I had arrived. I wondered how easily my father could turn the subject on and off. "Maybe I'll be that way some day," I thought to myself.
We stood up to leave and he left money on the table to pay the bill. As we walked to the car Dad slowed and appeared to have something to say.
"What is it Dad," I said stopping beside his pick up.
"Well, maybe I shouldn't mention this, but" he paused, "Hank told me that he stopped by the house the other night." Then he looked at me and appeared to be testing for a reaction.
After looking at the pavement I shrugged and said, "Yeah, he did. He surprised me stopping by," I paused before adding, "I guess we had a pretty good time."
Sounding relieved, Dad broke into a laugh followed by, "Well, I suppose I should have warned you about him. Hank's a pretty randy guy." He turned to unlock the door and shaking his head added, "But he sure manages to keep that wife of his pregnant on top of everything else." Apparently his wife was going to have another child. Nothing else was said on our drive home.
Later that evening in bed I recalled my experiences with Dad and Hank and wondered what to make of it all. I couldn't decide if they were in league together to bring me out to my true nature, or if everything was as unplanned and happenstance as it appeared. Finally, with images from each encounter in my head, I pleasured myself to relief and eventually sleep.
The weekend came with Dad away at the shop so I decided to drive up to see my grandparents. I thought that spending time with them would help keep my mind from idle thoughts. I stayed until dinner but, by the time I was ready to leave, I was thinking more of a trip to the bar that Hank had told me about.
Hanks' directions had been precise and in half an hour I was pulling into a gravel parking lot in front of the gaudy façade of a country bar. The lot wasn't full, but random autos and pick ups, as well as a couple of motorcycles, showed that it had customers.
Other than sneaking into a bar with some high school friends, I'd never actually gone into one before. Once inside of this one I was instantly taken aback by the dim lighting and shadowy figures huddled at the bar. They had all turned to look at my arrival. It took a moment to get my bearings before I heard, "Welcome honey, come on in."
The voice had come from a large man standing behind the bar. I approached awkwardly and pondered what to do since I was underage.
At the bar I was greeted by who turned out to be Miss Kitty. He was a large, heavy-set man with a face clearly made-up to include bold eye liner. "What'll you have, doll?"
"A beer," I answered in a near question.
"Got some I.D.?" Miss Kitty responded.
"I forgot it," I replied hesitatingly, lowering my head. "Give me a Coke instead."
Miss Kitty came back holding a mug overflowing with foam. Leaning towards me he said, "Just be careful who sees you drinking this, honey."
I dropped five dollars on the bar which was greeted by a big smile and, "Why thank you Sweetie Pie." Miss Kitty swooped up the bill and, after simulating putting it down his décolletage; he dropped it in a tip jar with a hearty laugh.
Retreating to a table along the wall and near the juke box, I took my seat to survey the scene. There were seven men seated at the bar and all had returned to their conversations. At one table were two Mexican men and a woman. One man and the woman rose when a new song began on the box and took the barely lit floor to begin dancing. It wasn't until then that I realized that the woman was actually a man in drag. The couple embraced and began a slow, undulating dance to the music.
From the corner of my eye I caught movement as a man, soon followed by another, came out of a door marked "Gents." Both took seats at a nearby table. It was on this distraction that I caught sight of a solitary figure seated at another table looking in my direction. A large, white cowboy hat rested on his table.
Turning to stare at my beer, I felt the back of my neck burning. After a few seconds and a deep breath, I turned to look over my left shoulder and found him still staring at me. This time he nodded his head and lifted his beer in a small salute. I nodded back, then turned quickly away and found myself reddening as I repressed a smile. The pleasure I felt from this attention superseded my awkwardness.
Before I could gain the nerve to glance at him again, I saw a pair of blue jeans with a large bulge in the crotch standing beside my table. I looked up to find the man smiling as he dropped his hat on my table. Sitting down across from me, he said "Mind if I join you?"
Despite my efforts to stay calm, I felt another smile erupt across my reddening face and I responded, "Sure, why not."
A large hand suddenly whipped in front of me from across the table, "My name's Roger," the man said.
I felt my own hand trembling as I took his and said, "I'm Dave," then mumbled, "Nice to meet you Roger."
Roger was a little taller than me. He was slender, though his shoulders were wide. He wore a denim western shirt half unbuttoned to reveal a swirl of chest hair.
"Well, Mr. Dave," he continued unreserved, "Judging by the excitement you created amongst the swishy crowd at the bar, you must not come here much." He then added, "First time?"
"Uh," I stammered, "yeah, first time." I was unnerved by the directness of his smile and look. He was very handsome, probably in his early 30s. He was younger than my father but obviously mature. He continued to grin back at me as I surveyed his angular face. His dark hair was pushed back behind his ears. I saw ringlets around his collar.
He spoke in a distinct but unfamiliar twang. "I don't either," and after pausing said, "I drive a rig across country. I've been here only a few times over the past couple of years."
I asked, "A rig? Where did you park? I didn't see one when I came up."
"I carry a motorcycle, it's parked in front. It helps me get around when I'm stopped. My rig is at the big truck stop just outside of town."
I had passed that truck stop, all lit up, on my way to the bar.
"I'm pretty much on the road all of the year, so I need an occasional diversion." He broke into an even larger grin accompanied by a wink.
"Do you like it, being on the road, I mean." I quickly lifted my beer to cover my mouth, since every comment I made seemed to set off another wave of blushing and grinning.
"Yeah, it's a good life for me," Roger replied. "What about you Dave, what are you up to?"
"Oh," I answered feeling awkward, "I'm working this summer at my Dad's. He has a machine shop south of here." Not knowing what else to say I blundered on, "I start to school this fall," then added, "community college."
"School, huh," Roger answered immediately, "that's a good thing. I figured you were young but hadn't figured that I might have a chance to land me a school boy." With that he broke into a loud guffaw while I blushed again. His teeth were white and very straight. I sat nervously looking at him.
"Tell you what my friend Dave," he said leaning forward over the table, "I'm not a man who likes to waste time. And frankly," pausing he grinned at me, "You don't seem to be a man with a plan, so why don't we go back to my rig? I have something in the cab that I think might interest a school boy out doing some research." He smirked and added, "You are interested in some 'research' ain'tcha Dave?" He sat back pleased with his humor.
I stammered hesitatingly and said, "Your rig? Is that okay?"
"Sure," he replied. "I've got it parked at the back of the lot where it's real private. My cab is extended and has a small room off the back where I sleep and wash up," adding with a grin, "among other things."
Soon we had agreed that I would follow him to his truck. We rose to leave and as we walked out I heard someone at the bar say, "That was quick," and Miss Kitty call out, "Y'all come back boys."
He sped off toward town spewing gravel in his bike's wake and I gunned the car to catch up with him. Apprehension as well as excitement filled me and we were soon turning into the lit up truck stop. I followed him through the lot until he stopped at an enormous black cab towing a trailer and parked on the back row where the light was dimmer, just like he had said.
