Life in the Middle Lane
Part I
by
Aahlu
Part I
by
Aahlu
The old Ford cut through the mist on the back roads like a speedboat through sea spray. We fled swiftly, headlights dipped against the growing light, hollow and hillock echoing to our exhaust, bends blending, straightening, seething with our tyre noise. We passed no other vehicle and saw no-one along the way as we rocketed through heath and woodland down onto a deserted dual carriageway.
Our momentum changed noticeably then, as the surface improved beneath our wheels. Our tyre noise lessened and the old Ford seemed to sense the openness ahead of her, dropping her temperature gauge back to 'normal' before she'd eaten up half a mile of that smooth black tarmac.
We passed a trio of early bigwheelers, soon after that, two hauling for a supermarket the other nondescript, while our heater hissed warm air onto our faces and feet. Then we were past them, headlights fading until they disappeared behind us and there was no-one else on the road but us.
Jen dozed as we clocked up our first ten miles, hunched in her seat with her coat done up tightly from her chin to her knees. Ahead of us the sky grew lighter, clearer and brighter, with the suggestion of a warm day to come.
At twenty miles the sun had risen enough to cause bother with my rear view mirror. I snapped it to dip, reached to turn on the radio and, as a couple of crows flapped away from the verge some music ended and after the usual signature tune, on came the news.
Apparently there was nothing exciting happening in the world that day, at least nothing anyone would want to write home about. I studied the fuel gauge for a moment, my thoughts so much on miles per gallon that I almost didn't hear the newsreader at all.
"..…east Midlands police say they want to question the couple seen running away from the scene of yesterday's bank robbery. Three quarters of a million pounds in old banknotes was stolen while it was being transferred to a Bank of England vehicle for disposal. Bank staff have been able to give good descriptions of the couple, both apparently dressed in black overalls and believed to be in their late twenties………"
Beside me Jen sniggered "Good descriptions!" she scoffed "Like what, I wonder? Oh yes. Two people dressed in black overalls who moved so fast no-one could catch them?"
"Its balls, I said, nobody saw us. We were much too quick. Besides……. if someone had we would know by now!"
Jen snorted derisively. "Two people dressed in black overalls" she mimicked "That must be police speak for "Haven't a clue!"
The old Ford tore on, eating up the miles steadily, endeavouring to beat its own shadow down the road. Presently Jen dozed again while the traffic increased in volume noticeably. We passed the fifty mile mark soon after, cruising steadily at seventy, give or take a mile or two.
"I could do with a piddle and a bar of chocolate" Jen said, glaring at the fiftieth big wheeler we passed.
She fumbled in the glove box, dragged out a road atlas and began to plot where we were. I had an idea there was a service station about five miles further on and my hunch was verified when Jen gave a sharp grunt.
"Petrol and toilets not far ahead" she informed me. "You'll stop, won't you?"
I nodded, anxious to put as big a distance between us and Northampton before nightfall as possible, but wary of attracting unwarranted attention. The old Sierra was a common enough motor, nondescript, you might say, even though I'd washed and polished it the day before. Now, I hoped, it would look just like any other old car on the road. Tired but legal, cherished and still running.
We both saw the petrol sign ahead at the same moment and as I snapped down the indicator lever, Jen fiddled on the floor of the car for her bag while I found a convenient place to park, drove into it and stopped the car.
"I'll get the chocolate, I told her, "and see you back here in a minute."
It took us ten minutes exactly to do the necessary at the service station, Jen returning much relieved and I, having found just enough change in my pocket, carrying the two Mars bars I'd bought.
The Ford started first time, well I knew it would. I looked at the fuel gauge and decided against putting any more petrol in until we'd put a few more miles on the clock, so while Jen bit into her chocolate I reversed out of the spot and put my mind on the road ahead. Our motorway junction was a couple of miles further on and once we reached it I reckoned we could keep up a good steady pace. It wasn't as if we were in a hurry particularly, but all the same……
On the slip road out of the services the hitch hiker caught my eye hopefully, the trade plate he carried glinting brightly in the morning sun. It was something we'd done several times before, Jen and I so, before she could tell me it was dangerous this time I pulled in quickly to pick him up. It was not something we hadn't done before.
"Are you going anywhere near Exeter, the hitch hiker asked.
"Well not into Exeter itself" I said "But we can drop you at the services nearby"
The hitchhiker agreed that would do him fine.
"Oh…..let me get in the back then!" Jen protested, pushing past him to get out then heaving open the passenger door.
In her haste to scramble out she left the door open wide, so the man climbed in thankfully, putting the trade plate and a small black bag on the floor at his feet. Jen slammed the back door, shoved a jumble of things aside then lounged back against them.
Next to me our new passenger fumbled to do up his seat belt.
"I had begun to despair" he said talkatively "It doesn't usually take me as long as this to get a lift"
He began to tell me about the job he did. Delivering new vehicles to various parts of the country, and how much he enjoyed doing it in spite of the poor money. He was a nondescript man, middle aged I thought, a bit down at heel dressed in well worn casual clothes. He had a weary, past caring look about him, the result I supposed, of endless days just like this one, when he had to find his own way home.
"I go all over the country" he said "Driving Mercs mostly, though I spend a lot of time standing in the rain afterwards. Waiting for a lift back to the depot, you see……"
We made the motorway just about then, the man still droning on about himself and his family. He'd been divorced twice and twice remarried, he informed me and had two kids by each.
"The eldest is in America" he said me, with obvious pride. "Stock market, money, you know, that sort of thing"
I nodded absently, not really listening, wishing he'd just shut up and just let me drive. So far he'd made no attempt to engage Jen in any of his endless conversation, not that she'd have been able to get a word in edgeways anyway. When I looked in the mirror to move into the middle lane I saw that she lay sideways on the seat and appeared to be fast asleep. At least she had her eyes closed, though whether from boredom or actual slumber I could not tell. What I could tell however was that in an effort to get herself comfortable Jen had unbuttoned the front of her coat so that a good deal of her body was completely exposed.
I must explain something to you before we go any further. Apart from being a superb bank robber Jen is a raging nymphomaniac. I know you are going to tell me that there is no such condition, that modern medicine has eliminated it, fashion has outdated it or women's lib have cured it. Sorry I can prove to you the phenomenon still exists because Jen, the kind of girl who would terrify the life out of many men, is a typical example of it.
I had suspected earlier, when we first set out on the journey in fact, that she'd not bothered to put any clothes on under her coat. It was a trick she'd played on me several times before and still I found it disconcerting when it caught me out.
"It's my way of saying fuck off to the world" she'd told me on one occasion. "Fuck Off, in big letters and if you don't like it you know what you can do!"
So there she was, pretending to be asleep, most of her beautiful body on show to the world, and as yet the poor chap with the trade plates hadn't even noticed her. I was getting tired of his life story and bored by his voice and rapidly reaching the point when I thought I might have to say so, when the driver of a lorry we were passing wound his window down.
Whatever words that driver shouted were drowned by his engine noise and the swish of our slipstreams but his gestures said more than his voice ever could.
"What's the matter with him?" Our hitch hiker asked curiously, staring at the thundering monster through the window. "You didn't cut him up did you?"
"No" I said "I think he meant her in the back……"
"Oh….." the hitch hiker looked at me in astonishment, which convinced me he'd forgotten that there was anyone behind him.
"I'm sorry" he began to say, half turning towards her "I didn't mean to leave you out of the conversation. I mean I …oh….er.......ohhhh!"
In my head I distinctly heard Jen snigger.
"Oh yes……." I said lightly "Sorry, I meant to tell you. She gets carried away sometimes……"
"She….." he began.
I had to move into the fast lane momentarily. Long enough to get past a delivery van before pulling back into the middle lane again.
"How long has she been ……." The hitch hiker tried again.
"Undressed?" I supplied helpfully. "for most of the day. In fact, now I come to think of it, ever since last Wednesday. What's that? More than a week!"
Apart from the black overalls she'd worn yesterday, but I knew better than to tell him about those.
The man wriggled in his seat, uncomfortably, unsure of the situation but not wanting to miss an opportunity to see what he could. I left him to it for a moment until the road was clear ahead of us again, then I looked round to see how Jen was doing.
At seventy three miles per hour on the back seat of our old Sierra she lolled lewdly in one of her classical poses. The one designed for maximum impact with the minimum of effort.
There were a couple of tartan travelling rugs pushed up against the passenger door behind me and against these Jen reposed in all her glory, her left leg thrust straight out along the seat and her right, bent at the knee and pressing on the back of my seat, angled so that her foot rested, with revealing results, on the cassette holder on top of the prop tunnel.
"I don't believe it" he stated confusedly "Does she often go out like that?"
"Quite often" I told him truthfully.
"Well" he muttered awkwardly "I don't know what to think!"
I left that statement unanswered for a minute or two. For about one motorway mile to be exact. Then as we rumbled past yet another big wheeler, whose driver studiously ignored us, I looked at him sideways and said.
"You can think its your lucky day, if you like"
"But she……" the man mumbled, his voice betraying the excitement he was struggling to keep in check. "……she isn't wearing anything!"
"She has a coat on" I said.
"But……look at her……." The man gulped and fidgeted, still wary of the situation, still not sure what to do. "Why is she…..why does she want to do that?"
I gave it to him as plainly as I could then, without being intentionally crude or provocative. "She does it because she wants to show off!" I told him. "She's an exhibitionist. That's why she is sitting there, just where the drivers of big lorries, like the one we just passed, can see her. She wants to be looked at. That's why we picked you up……"
The hitchhiker licked his lips "So…..I…..you want me to……she wants me to……"
"Yes!" I told him patiently. "She wants you to look at her body"
He made a half hearted attempt to ask something else, thought better of it, then, without more ado, he turned sideways in his seat and stared at Jen openly. I glanced at her too, caught a quick glimpse of her face in the mirror and could have sworn she winked at me. I overtook an overloaded van before slipping back into the middle lane again.
"Has she ……shaved herself?" the man asked suddenly, as if he'd only just noticed Jen's lack of pubic hair.
"I expect so……" I said, grinning inwardly. At last he was getting somewhere.
"Really?" he murmured, genuinely interested. "Does she……do it very often……?"
"Oh……well……" he murmured, his eyes fixed on her.
"And those …….. earrings" he enquired after some time. "Do they go right through the……skin?" his voice quavered when he asked that question, as if he was trespassing upon some kind of hallowed ground.
"Oh yes!" I said airily and in an effort to break down at least one of the barriers. "the ones in her cunt do!"
"Oh!" he said again, surprised I think by my bluntness. "So……so how many are there……"
"I asked how many……rings……" he replied, much louder.
"There are five, I think" I told him, deliberately trying not to labour the point. I knew exactly how many there were of course. Two more than I had in fact, because Jen's lips are more prominent than mine.
He thought about that for a moment, still staring at her as if he could not believe what he was seeing. He looked at me sideways, as if trying to determine my role in the situation.
"Her nipples are done too" I told him, as if as an afterthought. "Can you see?"
"Ah…oh….yes!" he began. His next question was more or less inevitable.
"Did it hurt?" he asked anxiously "I…I mean, when she had it done…."
He licked his lips, wondering where the conversation was taking him, aware of the uncomfortable feeling in his trousers. I laughed at this, then wished I hadn't for he turned on me suddenly.
"You are taking the piss" he said flatly "Making fun of me. Stop the car and let me get out"
I reminded him that we were on the M5 motorway, going south at seventy miles an hour. I told him I was only supposed to stop in an emergency and didn't think that being upset by a bit of jewellery was considered one of those. I thought he was going to become abusive then, either that or violent. Instead he muttered something about being put in an impossible situation.
Then he turned sideways in the passenger seat and stared open mouthed a Jen's body again. ,p> "She is really quite beautiful, isn't she" he said after a while.
I smiled "She will be pleased to hear you say so"
"And you are very lucky to……to……… I suppose you must be…….."
He broke off in mid sentence although I had a good idea what he was going to say. There was a touch of wistfulness in his voice, as if he knew some of life's good things had passed him by. I left him to it for a minute, looking ahead and going over in my mind our tried and tested procedure. The next part was crucial and I had to be particularly careful.
Taking a deep breath I asked quietly:
"How would you like to make love to her?"
He dragged his eyes off Jen's body for long enough to stare at me incredulously.
"What do you mean ……..?"
"Well, look at the way she is lying" I said. "You can see her cunt, her tits, everything. Wouldn't most men want to make love to a woman like that?"
"Yeah, they would!" he sighed deeply.
"So why don't you have a little feel for a start……?" I suggested.
The man gasped "What if she wakes up?"
"She probably will" I assured him. "And when she does do you know what she will say?"
"She……no, what……?" He tried to turn himself further but the seatbelt and several other things, his awkwardness mainly, got in his way.
"She will say" I told him slowly. "As soon as we find a place to stop I want you to make love to me……!"
The hitch-hiker laughed dryly. I thought for a moment he was going to turn nasty again. It was touch and go, playing with his feelings like that and I was acutely aware of the implications. He licked his lips and looked at Jennifer again. Just to make sure she was really there.
"Would you like to do that?" I asked softly, knowing that Jen would be listening in excited anticipation for his answer.
"Let me get this straight" the hitch hiker said "You stopped to pick me up so that your ……girlfriend could expose herself to me in the back of your car. You tell me she does it because she is an exhibitionist and she wants men to look at her. That's all well and good and I can accept that, but then you say she wants to……to fuck me as well. What am I supposed to think? That I've been picked up by a mobile brothel or something?"
"We picked you up" I told him firmly "In order to give you a lift to Exeter. Whatever else happens on the way is largely up to you! We don't expect you to pay for anything"
"But you said……I mean……why would she want to do anything with me?" he stumbled over his words, his hands quivering. "For a start I'm old enough to be her father. She…...doesn't know me. I could be……anybody……"
"Yes" I said. "That's exactly it. You are!"
"Oh I see!" he sighed heavily
Then he leaned into the space between the front seats, hunched his shoulders and reached for her with both hands.
© Aahlu 1997~2010
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Mon, 5th April, 2010
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