Road Head

I won’t bullshit you. I know how dangerous it is to get your hog sucked while you’re driving. But you know what? Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

The woman I picked up by the truck stop the other night was beautiful. Long, curly brown hair, green eyes, and soft, baby-smooth skin. Sexy hoop earrings, too. I love hoop earrings. I knew a girl in high school who liked to put her heels behind her hoops. Now that’s an image.

Anyway, I’m not going to lie and build myself up as some sort of stud by saying my lady friend and I went at it right away. I’m 55 with more gray than brown these days. Got a decent gut, too. The libido’s strong as ever, though. No blue pills needed. Regardless, there’s still a hint of gentleman left in me.

I know you’re already thinking I’m a pig. Well, maybe. I’d rather call myself a “Lothario.” Similar definition but infinitely classier-sounding. Don’t worry. I promise I’m not all bad.

We drove for a good while. These long-haul jobs can get pretty lonely. It was nice to have someone I could talk to.

As the hours passed, I talked about my family back home, about the job, and about my dreams for the future. I’ve picked up a lot of hitchhikers over the years and I delighted in how she was the best listener of them all.

The sun rose over the distant mountains and I was feeling good. I started getting the idea she was ready to move beyond conversation and, well, “thank” me for picking her up and giving her a ride. I looked around. There was a car a couple hundred yards ahead and another 18-wheeler maybe a quarter mile back. That was it. There was still an hour before people were going to wake up and take to the highways. It was risky, but I told myself, “hey, you’re a professional driver.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I opened my pants and let her go to work.

Man oh man, folks. Man oh man. That lady was something else. I never felt a mouth quite like that in my half century on this green Earth. All I could do was hold her by those pretty curls and try not to swerve off the highway. Hell, I even gave her a warning right before the ol’ grand finale and she didn’t say a damn thing. Just kept right at it. She was, as my brother would say, “a real god damn keeper.”

When it was all over, we were both a mess. A good mess, but a mess. I saw a sign telling me there was a McDonald’s at the next exit. As luck would have it, that’s also where I’d be dropping off my new friend.

I turned off the highway and headed toward the McDonald’s. I got to the top of the hill and threw my rig in park. “This is it,” I announced to my lady friend. I looked over at her on the passenger seat. She was still so pretty I almost wished I could keep her around. But that was silly. I had a family to go home to and she, well, she probably had other things to do too.

I got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. I opened the door and carefully grasped the woman’s curls. I picked her up and brought her to my face. Her green eyes were half-closed. Her chin dripped onto my shoe.

“Thanks for the great time,” I told her, then kissed the tip of her nose.

I lowered the head onto the pavement.

I sighed and walked toward the McDonald’s to clean up and get a cup of coffee. Before entering the restaurant, I looked over my shoulder to get a last glimpse of my lover. She was dragging her teeth and tongue over the asphalt and had started rolling down the hill.

She noticed me looking.

“Take care, Phil!” she called out, then rolled out of my life.

19 Replies to “Road Head”

  1. Honestly, you are an amazing writer. Brilliantly set up, with an image and an understanding of the setting and then you promptly shattered it in a subtle way. Geezus. Chills and “what the f**k” all around.

  2. Your stories are the only things I can’t predict the ending to. I’m rarely surprised by horror movies/books, but these catch me off guard every time. Amazing writing!

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