Chapter 3
She had to get her mind off this land of thing. Damn it, she was old enough to be his mother. If she offered herself to this stripling he would do one of two things. Either he would be frightened and embarrassed-or worse: he might laugh at her.
"Hungry?" she asked.
T could stand a little of you."
"What?" Ella's eyes widened and she had trouble concentrating on the road. "What did you say?"
"Cold," the boy elaborated. "I could stand a little soup."
"Oh." There she went imagining things. Was he sitting closer to her? Of course he was. He was trying to get away from the blast of the heater. His smooth-muscled, hairless chest was glistening. She got her eyes back on the road.
Suddenly it was snowing hard. She turned on the wipers and shifted down half a gear. Still the truck was losing speed. The fan noise changed and she knew the shutters had closed against the sudden cold. She went down a whole gear and the truck mushed doggedly on through suddenly thickening snow. If it came down much harder Ella knew she was not going to be able to see even with the wipers going. She checked cluster and clearance lights and made sure they were on. She turned on the amber fog lights and still couldn't see. She shifted down another whole gear and the rig slowed to forty-five. Squinting, she devoted her whole attention to the road. Then abruptly her whole attention was elsewhere. She felt the boy's hand. It was on her leg.
Do I slap him or do I ignore him and pretend U isn't there? She wanted to do the latter. Pretend it wasn't there and see what he did next. Would he become bolder? Would he start undressing her? Why couldn't he have done it before she needed every wit about her to cope with all this snow? She squinted. and the boy was squeezing her leg, then pounding it
"Look!" he yelled.
Finally she glanced toward him. He was pointing.
The water temperature was clear up to two hundred thirty!
Ella glanced in the mirrors. No traffic. Hastily she pulled to the edge of the road, then back into the right lane when she nearly mowed down a sign. It said REST STOP 1/4 MILE. She looked at the temperature gauge. It was no higher. She kicked the rig into neutral and let it roll the quarter mile into the rest stop and off the road.
The rig had not stopped rolling before the boy had opened the door and was outside. He banged on the shutters with his fist and she heard the fan noise change. The water temperature began creeping down. The boy climbed back into the cab again. "Linkage iced up," he explained. "You haven't lost any water."
The gauge settled down at a hundred ninety again and she felt the shutters start to close. Nothing seriously wrong. But it was snowing even harder. She glanced out at the highway. Empty. They were alone in the rest stop. Hungry?" the boy asked.
"A lot of good it'll do me!" Ella snapped.
I've got a jar of peanut butter and some crackers in my pack."
"Oh." While Ella was trying to think up an apology the boy opened his bundle and took out the fixings for their gourmet meal. She set the engine at a fast idle and they sat companionably in the warm cab eating crackers and peanut butter.
All through their spartan meal Ella felt something building between them. The boy finished his last cracker and stretched. He looked at the thickening snowstorm and at oil and water gauges. He stretched again. "Looks like we're going to be here a while," he said. "You want the bunk and I take the front seat?"
I want the bunk and I want you in it right on top of me without a single layer of clothing in between us! But instead of voicing this noble sentiment she merely nodded and gave the gauges a final check before climbing over the back of the seat and into the bunk. She could draw a curtain but she wasn't undressing and she knew she wasn't about to drop off to sleep with this strange boy in the rig with her so to hell with the curtain. The idling diesel would keep the cab warm for two or three days if it had to and it was cheaper to keep it running than it was to go through the hour-long torment of getting it warmed up again.
She stretched out in the bunk and closed her eyes. Nothing happened. The idling diesel filled the cab with a low rumble and a steady vibration. She was acutely aware of the firm young body stretched out on the seat only a foot away. She sat up, pretending to be looking at oil pressure and water temperature. The boy lay face down asleep on the seat, basking in the full blast of the heater. He had stripped down to his jockey shorts.
Ella gasped, Then realized he had no alternative. If he turned down the heater she would freeze. His body still glistened from the heat And god, what a lovely firm body it was! His chest tapered down to a narrow waist and hips. She could see the bulge of his machinery in the jockey shorts. Abruptly she realized that he had a hard-on. She wondered whom he was dreaming of. Lucky girl!
She wanted to he down again but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the vision of that smooth, hard-muscled body. Jesus! For a young hard body like this she would even have betrayed old Fred just as he had betrayed her with a wife at the other end of the line. What would it feel like to have a boy like this giving her the last full firm measure of his devotion?
She knew about boys. She remembered Fred in their first couple of years before he had learned to pace himself and endure for an hour-long fuckfest. This boy would be hair trigger. He wouldn't even get it into her before he expired in blurting, spurting confusion. It wouldn't even be worth getting undressed for. But even as she sour graped away Ella knew if he so much as touched her she would be unable to resist. No matter what this lovely boy wanted to do with her, she would not have the strength to resist.
He moved slightly and she ducked back down out of sight. A minute passed and she raised her head again, looking at the gauges. Cautiously she glanced down. The boy had turned over and lay face up. He smiled at her. She tried not to see him but she couldn't take her eyes away from the front of his tight-stretched jockey shorts. The boy's hard-on was stretching them, pointing straight up toward her like an accusing finger. "Sorry," he said.
"For what?" It slipped out before she could think.
"For this." He pointed at his hard-on. "I can't help it."
"Ym sure you could if you tried," she sniffed.
"Maybe," he said with a sleepy smile. "Could you manage not to bounce quite so much every time we go over a bump?"
"Oh!" Suddenly Ella was crestfallen. She wondered what was wrong with her. This conversation seemed to be drifting exactly the way she wanted it to drift. So this was how it was done. She had been wondering how to break the ice and here the boy had done it so casually and so naturally that "You want to?" he asked.
"Want to what?" Saying it, she felt like several kinds of a fool.
"I'll trade you," the boy said.
"Trade what?" Ella was growing frantic.
"A look at what you've been sneaking looks at for a look at what I've been sneaking looks at."
It was so exactly what Ella had been thinking, wishing, wanting, needing, that for a moment she wondered if the boy was reading her mind. She couldn't trust herself to speak. She tried to settle back down out of sight in the bunk but as she went down the boy came up in the seat until she lay flat on her back, and now he peered over the seat and down at her.
"My grandma always told me silence means consent," the boy murmured, his voice barely audible over the idling diesel. He leaned over the seat back to look down at her supine body. He put a hand down and captured the zipper of her ski jacket.
Ella knew she ought to do something, say something, at least offer some token resistance. She was paralyzed. Totally unable to move or speak, she lay supine while the boy's hand captured her zipper and began slowly, gently, damn it, couldn't he hurry up a little! Teasingly, he began working it back and forth just above the bulge of her forty-twos.
Abruptly Ella realized the boy was even more frightened than she was-afraid she would slap him and throw him out in the snow. But he couldn't leave her alone any more than she could stop thinking about how nice it would be for this boy to kiss her, lick her, put his hand....
The boy continued toying with her zipper and she knew he was afraid she would slap him if he got too close to tit territory. Big deal, she told herself. I'm wearing a bra underneath and the bra covers up more than most of those string things they wear on the beach. But she knew that it was one thing to wear a string bikini on the beach and something quite different to be alone with a stiff-pricked boy who was screwing up his courage to pull down her zipper and see what was making that marvelous pair of jiggling bulges beneath her ski jacket. Damn him! Will he ever make up his mind?
She wondered what would happen if she were to grab him and pull him down into the bunk with her. Scare him to death, she supposed. Nothing could destroy a hard-on faster than an over aggressive woman. Especially for a boy of this age it was important that he initiate all the moves. He had to believe that he was seducing her and not the other way around, that she had known in her heart of hearts from the moment she saw him in the mirror and knew he was a boy and not a girl that she would never rest until she had him between her legs.
Funny. This morning, less than two hours ago she had been a grieving widow, her life lived out, nothing left for her to do but die. And now all she wanted to do was live. Damn this dawdling boy! Would he ever stop fiddling around and get down to the business of undressing her?
What would she do if he were to chicken out? If he were to take his hand away right now and go back and fie down in the front seat she would kill herself. She wouldn't have to kill herself. If he didn't hurry up and get that zipper down she was just going to die!
He was leaning deeper over the back of the seat now, stretching both arms down to reach her. Still playing with her zipper, he got his other hand on her ski pants-clad thigh where he had been pounding her before to warn her about the water temperature. Only this time he wasn't pounding. He was stroking, caressing, running gentle tickling fingers up and down her thigh until she wanted to shriek and yodel her delight But damn him, did he have to be so slow? There would be time later for this kind of game. What she wanted first, right now, was six solid inches going into her, filling the void that had existed ever since old Fred had let his subscription lapse.
Still he toyed with her zipper. She smiled at him, tremulously, hopefully. She must look like a jackass eating thistles, she knew. Why couldn't she relax, take a calm and reassuring attitude, let the boy know he was welcome, invite him into her narrow bed to do his will with her willing body?
She tried to decide what to do to make him feel welcome. Pull him in? Then she knew what she had to do. Slowly, struggling to smile and be graceful while she did it she sat up in the bunk. Now they were more nearly on the same level and the boy didn't have to strain so hard to reach her.
"My turn," she said.
The boy was mystified.
"If you're going to take forever then maybe I'd better get a little glimpse of what it is I'm supposed to have been sneaking looks at"
"Oh!"
Suddenly the boy was climbing over the back of the seat, crowding into the narrow bunk alongside her. There was barely room for the two of them to lie side by side facing one another. Ella opened her arms and drew the boy to her. They kissed.
They kissed long and finally she had to come up for air.
"Aaaaaaaahhhh!" the boy commented. They kissed again and this time she opened her mouth to invite him in. After a startled moment the boy's tongue returned her invitation. Within minutes he was swapping tongues like a veteran of the French and Indian wars.
His hands were busy with her waist. Finally she realized that he was too close now to reach her zipper. Instead, he was struggling with the waistband button of her pants. Suddenly she felt the release of tension around her waist. He had gotten it loose. He began peeling her pants down over the gentle bulge of her burgeoning hips.
Ella was breathing so fast she thought she was going to faint. It was as if all the lonely dreams and fantasies of her long life had come true all at once-a hundred erotic dreams rolled into one and presented live in living color.
And flesh and blood. Hot blood pounded at her temples, perked up the nipples of her firm forty-twos until she knew she would die if he didn't get that jacket open soon and get his mouth over those nipples to lick, to kiss, to suck, to drive her right out of her hungry, sex-starved mind!
Ooooohhhh but he was a lovely boy! Would he ever get down to business? If he didn't hurry up and stick it into her she was going to cry. She was going to squeal with outrage like some disgusting little pig. But oh damn, how could he be so slow? Could any boy ever be this slow?
This one was. He kissed her again, devoting both hands to gently peeling her ski pants down over her luscious rump. Struggling in the confined space, he got them down around her knees.
Working carefully, one leg at a time, he got them off her. With a triumphant little yodel, he tossed her ski pants over into the front seat. The diesel racketed away at a fast idle. The heater poured warmth into the cab. Outside the snow was coming down harder.
The boy was coming down harder too. At first she didn't know what he was trying to do. Then as his face slid down the front of her ski jacket, down her bare midriff to the upper edge of her nylon panties, she knew what he was going to do. Oh damn this lovely maddening boy! He was sticking his tongue deep into her navel. It felt so goooood!