Chapter 1
Dean Ryder wiped some grease from his hands and looked over at the clock inside the station. Eleven-thirty, just about time to start thinking of lunch. He tossed the crumpled paper towel in the trash can between the gas pumps and started for the office, licking his lips in anticipation of the cold beer he had stashed in the big red ice chest alongside the bottles of coke and soda.
He had just stepped inside when he heard the double ring announcing another customer, another set of tires rolling over the bell tubes by the pumps. He cursed the bastards who wouldn't give a man a few minutes for a beer on a hot day and turned on his heel, back toward the pumps.
What he saw at the wheel of the white Lincoln convertible was no bastard. It was a gorgeous blonde wearing a white bikini that barely covered her tanned, ripe body. He came around to her side, and she smiled up at him expectantly. "Fill it up for you?" he asked, as coolly as possible under the circumstances. There was a pause while her eyes took in the lean six feet of Dean's body. Finally she answered.
"Yes. Fill it up." She said it simply, with a smile playing about her wide, sensual mouth, as if she meant something more by these words. Dean ignored her play on words and flipped open the lid on the Lincoln's filler-pipe. He'd been flirted with more than once by pretty customers, and he knew that most of them were just getting their kicks trying to turn him on; that they were on their way home to husbands and boyfriends and didn't intend to come through. He grinned back at her and shoved the nozzle into the pipe, feeling the handle grow pleasantly cool against his palm as the gas shot through it.
The blonde got out of the car and padded over to Dean on bare feet. She was tall, slender, and ample in the right places like the girls in Pepsi commercials.
"Do you have a ladies' room?" she asked him. "I've just got to brush my hair out. Been driving all day with the top down and it's a real mess."
Dean pointed around the corner of the garage. "It's around there," he said, "and the key's on a hook in the office."
"Thanks." She smiled again and followed his directions, disappearing with the key around the corner of the building. Just then a stocky man in a work uniform like Dean's came across the asphalt to stand beside him.
"Hi, Ralph. Have a good lunch?" Ralph belched and patted his stomach in a gesture of satisfaction. "Yep," he answered, "And that cute little waitress sure is gettin' friendly with me!" He grinned and ran a calloused hand through his slicked-back hair.
Dean feigned disgust. "You mean you kept me waiting for my lunch while you made eyes at that little floozy?" Ralph responded with a playful but solid punch to Dean's shoulder. "That's right, champ. Now why don't you take off for awhile and get yourself some grub?"
Dean returned his companion's punch. "Okay, Ralph. Soon as I finish up on this Lincoln."
Then he heard the blonde calling to him. "Hey, could you come help me get this door open? I can't get the key to work!"
Ralph grinned lecherously upon hearing the young, feminine voice. "I guess you'll take care of that, right?" he said to Dean.
"Right," came the reply, "Hold the fort, friend!" He left the pump on automatic and walked around to where she was struggling with the locked door. "Here," he told her, "You have to jiggle it around sometimes while you pull on the handle." As he worked on the lock, he was surprised to feel her breasts brush against his arm. He prolonged the operation, making it seem more difficult than it actually was. He wanted to see if she would do it again. Sure enough, in a few seconds he felt the scantily clad mounds against his arm and her breath hot in his ear, as she leaned over him, watching him work the lock.
Then the lock clicked and he pushed the door open. "There," he said, straightening up, "it's all yours." She just looked at him, her lips opening slightly over the white teeth, her eyes trying to tell him something. Their bodies were touching in the open doorway; then he was kissing her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she nibbled at it teasingly. He slid his hands down and cupped the firm globes of her ass, pulling her hard against him. They broke apart for a moment and regarded each other hotly. There was only one thing to do.
Dean pulled the girl inside the restroom and locked the door. "What about business?" she asked him, gesturing outside.
"My partner's back from lunch. He'll take care of it." He pulled the bikini top off her outstretched arms, setting free a perfect pair of proud, firm breasts. He molded them roughly in his hands, pulled the nipples until they stood out erect and pulsing, while she undid his belt and pants. He broke away to shrug off his shirt, and, as it fell from his shoulders, he felt her slipping down against him, kneeling and taking his cock in her mouth. She teased the head and shaft with her tongue, then she took in as much of the big organ as she could and began to suck in earnest, holding the balls with one hand and stroking his sensitive buttocks with the other. He looked down at the blonde head moving back and forth, and realized he was going to come any moment. He grabbed her hair and tugged.
"Get up," he told her. Slowly, grudgingly, she obeyed, trailing her smooth hands over his hips and sides as she rose to face him. He kissed her again, tugging her pants down over her thighs. She stepped out of them and he covered her heated cunt with his fingers, stroking and exploring until she was wet and ready. He pried the soft lips apart and found her clitoris, massaging it with his finger until it stood out hard. She had sunk her teeth into his shoulder, and her breath was coming in quick gasps. Her nails raked his back, as he probed her vagina with three fingers. It was wide open and waiting.
Dean kicked off his pants and dragged the girl into the toilet stall. He sat down and pulled her to him, straddling his legs. The blonde needed no encouragement. She grabbed his throbbing prick and lowered herself onto it, grinding her way down in little circular swings until he was in to the hilt. Then she lowered her face to his shoulder again, sank her teeth in and went to work, while he held her by the hips or played with her bouncing breasts. Sometimes she lowered herself and sat still, squeezing him inside her so they could feel their heated organs pulsing together. Sometimes she stood halfway up on the balls of her feet and twirled around with just the head inside, almost showing between the lips of her cunt, until they were both sweating with the heat of their exertion and their need. Finally she began a rocking motion, back and forth, and they were over the brink. She muffled a scream of joy into the flesh of his shoulder, while her cunt contracted again and again in uncontrollable spasms, and he shot his hot sperm at the door of her womb.
She collapsed against him, and they held each other, slippery and satisfied. Dean kissed the girl on the forehead. "You're okay," he said. "What's your name?"
"Sheila," she murmured into his neck. "My name is Sheila." She wiggled her breasts playfully against his chest. "And who are you, stranger?"
"Dean," he told her. "Dean Ryder."
"For real?" She grinned and nipped his cock inside her with a skillful contraction.
"Yeah, for real." He answered her nip with a twitch of his cock that started her grinding against him again. Just then the entrance bell rang. A customer. He stood up, lifting her off the floor, and kissed the disappointed mouth. "Sorry, honey, but I hafta get out of here. It might look bad if someone came to the door." He pulled her up off his cock, set her down gently, and grabbed his clothes. She picked up the pieces of the white bikini and just stood there for a moment.
"Will I see you again?" she asked him. Dean buttoned his shirt and reached for the door. "Sure. Stop by for gas again. Or leave me your address." Then he was out the door, sprinting for the pumps. When Sheila walked out to her car, Dean was waving a green sedan out of the station.
"Now how about that address, baby?" he asked her.
"Let me find something to write on," she answered, sliding into the driver's seat of the Lincoln. She rummaged around the glove compartment, extracted a small notebook and a ball-point pen, and began writing, while Dean pulled the hose out of her car with a rattle of metal against metal as he shook out the last drop. She tore a page from the notebook and handed it to him. "How much for the gas?" she asked. Dean looked at the paper before shoving it into his shirt pocket. The address was in a well-to-do neighborhood near San Francisco State College. "This one's on me," he told her. "Now give it to me straight. Are you married? I don't think a big buggy like this comes out of a working girl's salary."
"You're right," she answered. "It doesn't. But I'm not married. I'm going to school at State and my father manages to take pretty good care of me."
"A schoolgirl, huh? So you live alone?" Sheila closed the glove compartment, then turned the ignition key, and the Lincoln's engine sprang to life. "No, not alone," she said. "I've got a roommate. Tell you what -how about coming to dinner sometime, and I'll answer any other questions on your list."
"Tonight?" A free dinner, Dean thought, might make up for his stupid gesture of footing the gas bill for a little rich girl.
She thought for a moment. "Okay, tonight. How about six?"
"I don't get off work until six. Make it seven."
"Seven it is, then." She pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. "You know, I forgot to brush my hair!" They smiled at each other as she drove away from the pumps. Dean laughed, shaking his head, then strode past Ralph into the office to get his beer.