44 comments/ 91347 views/ 54 favorites Eighteen Wheels & A Denim Miniskirt By: ronde The sun was just peeking over the horizon as I pulled out of the rest area and headed down I-55 toward St. Louis. There was little traffic on the road this early in the morning. In about an hour, things would start picking up as people hit the highway on their way to the same job at the same desk in the same building as yesterday and the day before that. I felt sorry for them, in a way. Nothing ever really changed for those unlucky souls. Oh, maybe some rumor about the boss banging one of the office girls would stir things up for a while. That jerk-ass manager might finally get his ass fired. People would huddle in their little cubicles to talk about how they thought he should have been canned years ago, but wasn’t because he was a buddy of one of the VP’s. After these little flurries of excitement, things would get back to the normal routine of clicking keyboards, phone mail, and an endless schedule of meetings. I know. I lived that life for ten years. I suppose it was the divorce that finally tipped me over the edge. The way Gloria left just about killed me. I came home one evening and found a note on the refrigerator. It said, “I can’t do this anymore. My lawyer will be in touch.” No phone number, no address, no way to contact her, no nothing. We’d had some trouble, but nothing I thought we couldn’t work out. I still loved her. Apparently she didn’t share the same feelings. To make a painful story bearable, I’ll just say Gloria and I reached an agreement that gave her about everything except the house and my old pickup. We split the house down the middle. That was the price for me not paying alimony. My lawyer said it was a good deal, so I took it. I was pretty pleased with the price the house brought. I made it out with about twenty-five grand and a very bruised ego. After that, life as a sales engineer for an auto parts company lost a lot of its luster. I’m still not sure just what made me decide to do it. All I know for sure is I saw the ad in the Sunday paper, and it sounded like a good deal, so I called them on Monday. After filling out an application and paying a tuition deposit, I was officially enrolled in the Reynolds School of Truck Driving. It seemed like a good sign that I could take the classes and get in my hours at the wheel while still keeping my sales job. I couldn’t sleep much, but I could do it. I figured it ‘d be an easy way to make a living while I got my life back together. I mean, how much different could one of those rigs be from my pickup? Sure, it was longer and wider, but it had a steering wheel, and I could already drive a stick shift. Well, don’t let anybody fool you. It’s somewhat the same going forward, except you have to match gears, speed, and revs to keep the engine working efficiently, and at first, it feels like you’re steering a three-bedroom ranch down the highway. I got used to the size pretty fast, and except for having to double-clutch, shifting was pretty much the same. There were just more gears to work through - a lot more gears. Backing up was another story. My instructor could back a forty-foot van body between two other trailers at a shipping dock at about five miles an hour and look bored in the process. Let’s just say I went a lot slower for quite a while, and I was sweating bullets all the time. The more I drove, the harder it was to put on a suit and tie and sit in that cubicle all day. A week after I got my CDL, I quit the sales job, and hired on as a team driver for Tri-State Transport. I did pretty well on my first runs. After I proved I could handle the rig, Tri-State started me driving a solo run between Chicago and Memphis. I kind of liked driving by myself. At that time, I still had some thinking to do about the rest of my life. I did a lot of that while making the Memphis run over the next two years. I was filling up at a truck stop one afternoon, when a really tough-looking Mack pulled into the pump beside me. The rig was wearing about a hundred clearance lights and a chrome silhouette of a naked woman decorated the grill. It was big and black and beautiful with a long sleeper cab, and it made my old Tri-State Jimmy look like the ugly stepsister of the family. “Jack Brewster Trucking, Rockridge, Alabama”, it said on the door, and there were eighteen state stickers on the side of the cab. You know how when you were a kid, there was always one thing that you dreamed of doing or being when you grew up? Well, I wasn’t a kid anymore, but that Mack became it for me. I didn’t know Jack Brewster, but I didn’t have to know the man to know what he was. He was an owner-operator, and right then, I decided that’s what I was going to be…, well, someday, anyhow, Someday came a year later. Diesel prices went up a few cents and Tri-State went down the tubes. I hadn’t had many expenses except my apartment, so the twenty-five grand had grown a little. Thirty-two was young enough to recover if I lost it all, or so I figured, so I went shopping for a rig. The used Pete and trailer had been traded in by a husband/wife team, and although it wasn’t exactly the rig of my dreams, I could afford it. It had a little over a hundred thousand on the odometer, and the service records were perfect. The sleeper wasn’t as big as the one on that Mack, but the double bed and the few appliances would be enough for me. After paying a few thousand more for license, insurance, and interstate permits, a call to a company that finds loads for truckers got me on the road again. From then on, I’d be collecting the whole hauling fee instead of just a small part of it. After a couple of these runs, I decided since I was never home, having the apartment was a waste. I didn’t have much there anyway. It was a simple matter to move into the sleeper for keeps. A cell phone kept me in touch with my load service and the rest of the world. I got a PO box in my hometown for mail, and hit the road again. Driving was a ball and I was making some money at the same time. What could be better than that? One autumn morning, I was rolling down US-41 through Indiana. The scenery was beautiful and the air had that crisp clarity that comes with the first cold snap of the fall. A few farmers had been up for a while, and their combines were slowly devouring the brown expanses of ripe soybeans that carpeted the fields beside the highway. My cargo, plumbing fixtures destined for the distribution center of a well-known discount chain, had been loaded in Gary. The drive was about nine hours, give or take. US-41 is filled with stoplights, but it was the shortest route between Gary, Indiana and Hopkinsville, Kentucky, and the Indiana Troopers don’t patrol it all that much. I could push the rig a little if I had to. Just before US-41 crosses I-74, there are a couple really big hills. The tractor went to work when I started up the first. Black smoke billowed out of the stacks and made long, swirling plumes I could see in my mirrors. The diesel fuel surged from the saddle tanks to feed the hungry engine, and in my mind, I could see the numbers spinning on the truckstop pump just outside Hopkinsville. I topped the hill and eased off the pedal a little. I’d let the rig run down the other side to gain some momentum for the climb up the next. That would save some fuel, and fuel saved was cash in my pocket. The rig had just eased over the speed limit when I saw a flash of red in my left-hand mirror. It was coming up behind me fast. That little Japanese pickup blew past me like I was sitting still. It was beside me just long enough for a glimpse of denim against long legs through the side window, and then long brown hair through the back. The woman sped down this hill, then up the next, and I’ll swear she was accelerating all the while. That little engine had to be redlined at the speed she was driving. I was surprised she could even keep the light vehicle on the road. She topped the next hill just as I was starting up, and I lost sight of her for a while. When I reached the top, I saw her again, about a mile ahead of me. The road straightened out for a ways there and she was flying low. I wondered why she’d be driving so fast. I mean, I’d been known to cheat the limit by five to ten on an interstate, but she had to be doing close to a hundred on a road full of tar strips. No patrol car would ignore her, not at that speed. I wasn’t sure of the fine for forty-over in Indiana, but it was a safe bet she’d contribute at least a couple hundred to the state coffers if they stopped her. As it was, she didn’t have to worry about that. She had more immediate problems. I saw blue smoke pour from the back of the pickup and a trail of black appeared on the pavement. Her brake lights came on as she coasted to the shoulder. Stopping for hitchhikers is not really safe anymore, and that’s why most companies have strict prohibitions about it. Too many truckers have wound up lying in a ditch after some son of a bitch knocked them in the head and drove off with the load. A stranded motorist was a different story, especially if my memory of those legs was right. I rolled the rig to a stop in front of the pickup and got out of the cab. The woman had popped the hood and was watching smoke pour up from the engine. She turned around and smiled grimly as I walked up beside her. My memory was right. Those legs went all the way from the red pom-poms that peeked from the back of her white running shoes to the hem of her denim miniskirt, and then some. The rest of her was pretty nice too. I guessed her at about twenty-five. It’s hard to tell with women, but with her looks, age wouldn’t matter much to any guy. Her snug tank top was filled to overflowing, and that shining, dark-brown hair hung in waves well below her shoulders. “Looks like you’re havin’ some trouble here, Ma’am.” She scowled. “Yeah, darn it. I think something’s wrong with the motor.” The smoke had cleared a little, so I looked down at the engine. There was a hole in the block just above the oil pan on the left side. She’d thrown a rod. That’s the only way that hole could have gotten there. “Well, it’s for sure you’re not gonna drive it away from here. Can I call you a wrecker? I have a cell phone in the cab.” “Nope. Let it sit there and smoke. He can come get it if he wants it back. It’s in his name anyway. I could use a lift, though, if that’s not too much to ask.” “Nah. Where’d you like me to drop you off?” She put her finger to her bottom lip and thought for a second. “Let’s see. San Diego would be nice, or Dallas, or Miami, or Tucson, or Seattle. Anywhere, just so it’s a long way from here.” “Sorry. I’m only going as far as Hopkinsville, Kentucky. That’s where I drop my load.” “Never heard of it. How many miles is that?” “About three hundred or so.” “I guess that’ll do, for now anyway. I’ll figure out something when I get there. Let me get my stuff.” She sat against the door and stared out the window as I went through the gears. My eyes kept wandering from the road back to those legs. The miniskirt had hiked up because she was slumped in the seat, and the view was…, well, I hadn’t been this close to a woman since Gloria. Oh, there were a few waitresses who’d flirt a little, just for fun, and in some rest areas the hookers would mess with me until they saw I wasn’t interested. This was different. “Ma’am, what’s your name?” “Amanda.” “Well, Amanda, I’m Mark. You like music? I could turn on the radio.” “Doesn’t matter.” She hadn’t moved a muscle. “You know, three hundred miles is gonna to seem awfully long if you just sit there and stare out that window.” Amanda turned, and I saw tears in her eyes. “You’re crying. What’s the matter.” “I just left my husband.” “Oh. That’s OK, I understand.” “No you don’t. You don’t know what he’s like.” “Well, no, I don’t know him, but I do know how you feel. I got divorced myself, a few years ago.” “It’s not the same. He’ll try to find me. He’ll drag me back to that trailer so he can make me cook and clean and bring him his beer and….” Amanda stopped for a few seconds and stared at me. Her bottom lip quivered. “Well, I’m not going back. Never.” “You don’t have to go back, but shouldn’t you at least let him know you’re alright? He’ll probably worry about you.” I started to explain that Gloria had left me the same way and that I’d worried about her, but Amanda stopped me short. She pulled up the tank top. “Does this look like he’d be worried about me?” The purple-black bruise started at band of her pastel blue bra and ran all the way down her side and a little way around the front of her chest. “He did that to you?” “No. I slipped in the shower. That’s what I always tell the girls at work. Sometimes I walk into doors in the dark, or fall going down the steps, too. They think I’m a regular klutz.” “He’s hit you before?” “Only on the days he drinks. That would be about everyday but Sunday. On Sunday, he goes to see his mother so he can’t drink then. He got smart, though, after Jackie – that’s our neighbor – after she called the cops. They didn’t arrest the bastard, but he doesn’t hit me in the face anymore.” We rode silently for a few miles. Amanda turned back to stare out her window, and I did some thinking. Gloria and I had had a few real knock-down-drag-out arguments before. Well, OK, call them fights, but I never hit her, and I never wanted to. What kind of animal would do that to a woman? Amanda looked like she weighed about a hundred, maybe a hundred-five soaking wet. There wouldn’t be any way she could fight back. “He won’t know where to look, so he won’t be able to find you. You have any money?” “Yeah, I cleaned out his billfold while he was passed out. He still had a hundred left from his paycheck. Once I get someplace, I’ll call Mom. She’ll send me enough to get back to her house. It’ll make her happy. She’s been trying to get me to leave him for years.” I pulled the rig into a truckstop just outside Vincennes for lunch. Amanda excused herself to use the ladies room while I found us a table. Her eyes weren’t quite as red when she came back and I noticed she’d put on some lipstick. “You know what, Amanda? You clean up pretty good.” Amanda blushed. “I, uh…, I left in kind of a hurry this morning. Just thought I’d put on some makeup so I’d look human again.” ‘You didn’t need makeup for that. You’re a pretty woman without it.” Amanda grinned. “Thanks. It’s been a long time since anybody told me that. It feels good.” She also apparently left before she’d had breakfast, because she attacked the cheeseburger and fries like she was starving to death. I like to enjoy my food, so she finished before I did. “So…, Mark, was it? How long you been driving a truck, Mark? “About three years.” “Like it?” “I love it. Why wouldn’t I?” “I don’t know. It just seems like it would get pretty lonely.” “Sometimes it does, but nobody tells me what to do except me and I can go anywhere I can find a load. It’s better than sitting in a stuffy office where somebody’s always looking over your shoulder.” “Where you headed next?” “Well, after I unload in Hopkinsville, I’ll call my load service and see what they have. Could be anywhere. I like to stay in the Midwest if I can, but I’ve been as far as California, Utah, and Maine. Just depends on who needs what hauled where, and what they’re willing to pay.” A half-hour later, we hit the road again. I took the Pennyrile out of Henderson a little before four. It was going to be close, but I’d still make my five-thirty dock time. Amanda had become a little more talkative. I learned she’d been married to the creep for six years. It was one of those cheerleader/football-star things that seemed like a great idea at the time. Jake – that was her husband – got a football scholarship to Western, but flunked out his freshman year. They were married that summer. He went to work in a factory and made pretty good money, but Amanda never saw much of it. She got just enough for the household expenses and a few clothes. Jake spent the rest on beer and his bass boat. At first, that had been enough for her. Then he started criticizing the way she did everything. They had a fight that he ended by slapping her across the face and blacking her eye. After that, she was afraid of him. The asshole figured that out, and had her waiting on him hand and foot. If she didn’t move fast enough, he just hit her again. She considered herself lucky that Jake didn’t want sex with her. He had another woman for that, a fortyish blonde that he’d met in a bar. He told Amanda the blonde was better in bed. Somehow, I kinda doubted that. About midways through Kentucky, she asked if I’d stop for her. “Uh, Mark, could you pull over at the next exit. I need to uh, well, I think I shouldn’t have had quite so much iced tea.” “The next exit’s about ten miles. I’ll just pull over on the shoulder here.” “I’m not…, I - I can’t just squat beside the road.” I couldn’t suppress the chuckle. “No, no, you can use the one in back, in the sleeper.” She was gone about ten minutes. When she plopped herself down in the seat, she was grinning like a kid with a new toy. “I didn’t know these things had potties in ‘em. And you have a little baby refrigerator and stove too. It’s like Jackie’s camper, only really small. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a home except the sleeper, so all that stuff comes in handy when I stop to sleep. I don’t have to look for a motel with a lot big enough to park this rig, and I can get up, shave, eat breakfast and go to work without going outside.” I was unloaded by six and asked Amanda where she’d like to go. “I guess to a really cheap motel. I don’t know anybody here.” “No, I mean for dinner. I figured you’d be hungry again. Don’t worry about your money. It’s on me.” “Where do you go when you’re here?” “There’s this little place that serves real southern pork barbecue. It’s not fancy, by any means, but you’ll never have better.” “That sounds fine to me.” I called my service while we had coffee, and found a load for pickup at seven in the morning. “Well, I’m headed for Peoria, Illinois in the morning. Decided what you’re going to do yet?” “Will you go through Springfield?” “Not this trip. Why?” “That’s where my Mom lives. If you were going that way, I thought maybe I could keep riding with you and you could drop me off there.” It would cost me over an hour and some fuel. This load wasn’t paying all that much in the first place, and the timing was tight. “I don’t know, Amanda. It’s a little out of my way and – “. I wish women wouldn’t do that. Her face pinched up and tears filled her eyes. I can’t stand it when women cry. I feel like an idiot because you can’t stop them, and I never know what to say. At least she didn’t start sobbing. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose on a tissue she fished out of her pocket. “That’s alright, I understand. I’ve taken advantage of you enough as it is. Can you find that motel for me?” It wasn’t much, but then, she didn’t have much money either. I waited until she closed the door before heading down to fill up, crawl into the sleeper and get some rest. Rest? That was a laugh. Thoughts of her kept running through my head. What if her mother couldn’t send enough money? What she had wasn’t going to last long. What if Jake somehow managed to find her? I couldn’t bear that thought. I finally fell asleep sometime after midnight, and wasn’t ready for the alarm at five. Getting dressed helped me wake up a little, and brought those thoughts back again. I called my service while the coffee was brewing, and, at six thirty, I knocked on the door of her motel room. She was yawning and scratching her head when she opened the door. Amanda was pretty even with her hair all mussed and with a pillow crease on her cheek. The long T-shirt with “NICE KITTY” on the front might have had something to do with my impression. It did little to hide her lush curves. They looked pretty nice to me. Eighteen Wheels & A Denim Miniskirt “Why’d you come back?” “I got another load after Peoria, down to St. Louis. I’ll have to go down I-55, and I thought it’d be nice having company for a change. I can drop you off in Springfield on my way. Oh, there is one thing. I have to lay over in Peoria for a day to stay legal, but we can find you another motel room. You’re welcome to ride along if you still want to.” “Why are you doing this? You don’t even really know me.” “Because I couldn’t sleep last night, and I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re safe with somebody who can help you work through this thing. Now, get dressed and checked out if you want to come along.” We rolled into Peoria with a little time to spare and dropped the load. The St. Louis load wouldn’t be ready until seven AM, day after tomorrow. I usually spent these layovers sleeping and doing laundry. If’ there was something interesting close by, I might go have a look, but most parking lots can’t accommodate sixty feet of tractor and trailer. I usually had a book I hadn’t yet read, and if I was lucky and the antenna worked, I might catch something decent on the little nine-inch TV. I found Amanda another cheap room. At least it was clean and they allowed rigs to park overnight. We ate dinner at a nearby steak house. I dropped her at her room door at eight, and then parked in the back of the motel lot. Unlike last night, thoughts of Amanda’s problems didn’t keep me awake. Instead, I fell asleep thinking about how much fun it had been having her along. When I sleep, I’m pretty much dead to the world, and I have no trouble putting in ten or eleven hours of sack time if I’m tired. The banging on the truck door didn’t really register for a while. It was more like a thumping way off in the distance, and it took some time to realize it was just outside the sleeper. After my eyes opened wide enough to see, the little red blurs on the alarm read ten-thirty. I stumbled out of the bed and peered around the entry to the sleeper. Framed in the side window was that beautiful hair, an even more beautiful smile, and her flashing eyes. “Wake up. It’s time for breakfast. This time it’s my treat. I know you’ve got a frying pan in there.” Amanda had walked down the block to a convenience store and bought a few things. She cooked while I rearranged the bed back into a dinette. I don’t know if it was the way she cooked them, or the fact that she cooked them just for me, but the bacon and eggs were delicious. For some reason, her coffee was better than mine, too. She finished before I did, again, and just sat there smiling as I ate. I left the trailer at the motel after the manager said it would be OK. We drove down by the river and watched the boats go by. Well, she watched the boats. I watched her. “Mark, you keep staring at me. I know I couldn’t do much with my hair this morning, but is it that bad? “No, nothing like that. It’s just that I haven’t, uh…, well…, been around many women since my divorce, and it’s kinda nice.” “That sounds like a pickup line to me. I know about you truckers. A waitress in every truckstop just aching for you to come through again.” I shrugged. “Sure, they’re out there if I was interested. Lot of guys do that. I can’t just hit and run, if you know what I mean, and since my divorce, I haven’t found one that made me want to stay.” ‘What about one that would come with you?” “I couldn’t ask a woman to do that. The closest thing I have to a home is a post office box in Louisville and I only get there once or twice a month to collect the bills and junk mail. The rest of the time, I’m either on the road or sacking out here, in the sleeper.” “Sounds kind of exciting in a way, like being an explorer or something. Some women would love to trade a house in the suburbs for the adventure.” We ate dinner and then I took her back to the motel. Tomorrow morning, we’d pick up the load of dozer parts in Peoria and head to St. Louis. Sometime before lunch, I’d drop Amanda in Springfield, and get on with the rest of my life, whatever that was going to be. I knew it wouldn’t be quite the same as before. It occurred to me that I was going to miss her, but there really wasn’t anything I could do about that. She was married. Yes, it was to an asshole who beat the hell out of her, but she was still married. It wasn’t my place to convince her to keep running from him. Sooner or later, she was going to have to face up to him to either get a divorce or to go back. I shuddered at the last thought, but I knew some abused women do go back. Surely Amanda was smarter than that. I fell asleep thinking about how it would be if she did come with me. We pulled into the factory gate at six thirty and I waited in the guardshack while the guard checked with his shipping department. There was a frown on his face when he hung up the phone. “Mister, they’re not ready for you. They say it’ll be tomorrow morning about five AM. The shipping manager says he’ll pay you for the layover if you’ll wait.” There wasn’t really much choice. It would take until tomorrow to find another load anyway. I got back in the cab and told Amanda we’d be a day late getting her to her mother’s. “That’s OK, but I should let her know I’ll be late or she’ll worry. Can I use your phone to call her?” Amanda had picked up some of those tourist brochures in the motel lobby, and we decided the wildlife park looked like a good way to spend the day. She asked me to stop by a grocery store on the way. She came out with a sack full of sandwiches, potato salad, and sodas. “I thought we’d have a picnic while we’re there. Jake never liked picnics so I haven’t done this in years. This way, we won’t have to spend a fortune at the concession stand, and the food’ll be better.” We walked through the park until about five, just watching the animals and talking. Amanda was just easy to be with, if you can understand that – no pretense of anything, no expectations - she was just herself and it was great. Sometimes, she was a little girl, all wide-eyed in wonder at the bison herd. At the pioneer center, where volunteers spent the day living as they would have years ago, she questioned the women about how they did this or that. During lunch, she joked about how those same women were able to have kids. “Well, how would you like carrying water and washing clothes by hand all day? I’d just fall into a coma as soon as I hit the bed. I don’t think I’d even know if my husband was doing it. That’d be hell, wouldn’t it – finding out you’re expecting and not even remembering the good part?” “If you didn’t know about it, he wouldn’t be doing it right.” Amanda chuckled. “That’s so old, but you’re right. Hey! Do you suppose pioneer women got horny? I never thought of that before now. Did they walk around in those long dresses all day, being good cooks and milking the cows and taking care of the kids, and then get naked and jump their husbands at night?” “I never thought about it either. I doubt they did. I mean, the whole family lived in a tiny little cabin. It would be hard to do anything after the first was old enough to know something was up.” “Well, one of the actors said the women had about six kids apiece, so I’d say something was up quite a bit.” She shot me a devilish grin. “That would be the husbands – who were up, I mean.” It was on the way back to the truck that she slipped her arm around my waist. If felt like it was meant to be there, and I slipped my arm around her shoulders. Amanda looked up at me with her sparkling eyes. She didn’t say anything. She just smiled and gave me a little hug. I remembered she needed a place to stay that night. “Well, we have to get you another place to sleep. That same motel alright with you, Amanda?” “Well…, actually…, no. After I checked out this morning, I had fourteen dollars left. Can’t I just sleep in the truck? That’s what you do.” “There’s only the one bed. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the room, and you can pay me back at your mother’s.” “Mom…, well, she lives on Social Security. She doesn’t have much extra money.” Amanda’s eyes had a warm sparkle. “I know there’s only one bed, and don’t look at me like that. I see it in your face and I don’t want you to think of me that way. I wouldn’t sleep with you to pay you back or anything.” She put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me softly. “Maybe I just want to do this because I want to.” “But you’re married.” “I know. I thought about that when I talked to those women today. Know what I decided? I decided I’m not really married, at least not like those pioneer women were. My marriage is just a piece of paper at the courthouse and some words we said to the preacher. There’s no love, no wanting to be with him, no wanting him to be with me. I’m afraid when he’s around, and when he’s gone, I’m afraid of what’ll happen when he comes back. That’s not being married; that’s like being in a concentration camp. “The last two days have been so wonderful. You’ve been good to me, and you’ve also been good for me. I would probably have gone back to Jake if you hadn’t come along. I always thought somehow he might change if I just acted right, but now, I know he never will. You took me in and didn’t ask anything in return. Last night, I thought about how nice it was to not be afraid, to just be with somebody and have fun. You listen to me and you don’t tell me I’m dumb. I don’t really want to get off in Springfield. I’d rather just run away with you and live in the sleeper. I think I’ve found that man you talked about.” “What man?” “The man who’ll keep me safe and help me work through this thing. I know I don’t have any right to ask for that, and it’s a lot more than you’re probably willing to give, but that’s how I feel.” She laughed. “Last night, I tried to remember how love feels. I don’t think I never really knew. I’m not sure yet, but I think I’m starting to get there. I was praying you felt the same way.” “Amanda, I don’t want you to leave either, but –“ “Then I won’t until you say I have to.” I took her in my arms and kissed her. I understood exactly how she felt. Since Gloria left, I’d forgotten how it felt to need somebody and to be needed in return. Instead, my life revolved around needing nobody, unless I counted my load service and the bank. I’d been driving this rig away from everything and everybody just as fast as I could, only to run into a woman I desperately needed to stay with me. We were both a little nervous when I parked the rig in back lot of the truckstop. I killed the engine and locked everything up for the night while Amanda went to the sleeper to wash up. When she turned out the light, I stepped through the entry, took off my clothes, and slipped between the sheets beside her. Amanda’s body was lean and soft. I’d forgotten just how soft a woman’s breasts and tummy are. Her nipples pressed into my chest, and when I kissed her, she held me like she was afraid I’d leave. I rubbed her back gently and then slipped my hand around to the side of her breast. She flinched. “Sorry. It’s still sore there, a little.” “I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.” She covered my mouth with hers and inhaled my lips. Her hands slipped around my neck and pulled me to her tightly. She flinched again as she mashed her breasts into me, but maintained her embrace. I felt her smooth thigh slip over mine, and then the soft brush of the patch of hair below her belly. She released one hand from my neck and moved it to my chest. Her fingertips roamed everywhere as if she were blind and trying to see me by touch. The hand moved down to my belly and stroked the muscles there, then moved lower. I felt her fingers swirl through the hair around my cock. Her hips were round and firm, and I cupped them each in turn. Amanda seemed to like that. Her tongue licked over my top lip slowly and then forced its way inside to find mine. It was warm and wet, and a jolt went through me when I touched it with my own. She moaned a tiny little sound and slipped her fingers around my cock. The gentle touch was almost unbearable. I hadn’t felt a woman against me in a long time, and I’d never been with any woman like Amanda. She was ravenous for my touch, and exquisitely gentle with her own. I slipped my hand over the curve of her hip and she spread her thighs wide. The soft curls around her lips were moist against my fingertips. The satin-soft lips themselves were wet when I slowly slipped a fingertip over them. With just a few more caresses, they parted and my fingers touched the even softer lips that lay just inside. Amanda pulled away from my mouth and groaned. “God, I’ve never felt this way before. He never…, Ohhhh “ Amanda cried out because I’d just slipped my finger past the side of her little clit. She jerked her hips into my thigh, and then pushed back against my hand. I felt her stroking my cock, slowly and gently, just moving the skin over the rigid shaft. She bucked again when I slipped my finger through her lips and just inside her passage. I massaged there gently and felt her try to find my rhythm. She kissed me again, open-mouthed and with her tongue searching for mine. The kiss lasted until I rubbed her little button again. Amanda gasped and moved herself on top of me. I felt her reaching between us for my cock. She found it, lifted it up, and rubbed it between her thighs. I felt those soft inner lips against the head, and then the sensation of being clasped in their satin embrace as she pushed herself down. I’d barely entered her when she started breathing hard and stopped. She pulled herself off me, then pushed back down again. My cock slipped deeper into her wet warmth and Amanda moaned. “It’s been so long. I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.” She lifted herself again, breathed deeply, and lowered herself until her hips rested on my thighs. Her breath came in little short gasps. The light from the parking lot lamp lit the interior of the sleeper and I saw her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed. Her lips parted when she moved up a little. “Ummm.” Amanda’s breasts hung down slightly above me and begged to be fondled. I cupped them and gently squeezed, then lightly brushed her nipples with my fingertips. It was as if I’d pushed some sort of control switch. Her passage rippled around my cock and then squeezed its base. Amanda gasped and bent to kiss me. Her lips were insistent and incredibly soft. She began to rock slowly and the motion caused me to slip in and out of her body just a little. I’m not big by any measure, but Amanda was a very snug fit. I’d not felt such sensations from so little movement before. She was feeling those sensations, too. Her lips nibbled at mine, then mashed against me. The nipples that had been small and soft in my hands became taut and ridged with wrinkles. Just a slight touch of my fingertip caused Amanda to moan into my mouth and jerk her hips to drive me deeper into her body. By rolling my hips down into the mattress, I pulled my cock most of the way out of her passage, and then slowly slipped it back in. The second time I did this, Amanda mashed her breasts into my hands and groaned. “Oh God, I knew it could feel like this. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She didn’t have to worry about that. I was trying for all I was worth to keep from lifting her off the bed with the long, fast strokes my body was demanding. I settled into a slow rhythm that Amanda quickly matched. Her stiff nipples dragged across my chest with each stroke and her tongue played with mine as if our mouths were making love too. She spread her thighs wider and pushed herself over me until each stroke pressed the head of my cock against the warm, wet end of her passage. I slipped my hand around her small butt and felt beside my cock for her little clit. It was extended slightly and when I moved my fingertip over it, Amanda cried out. I bushed over it again and she began to rock against me more quickly. My little circular massage forced her to break our kiss. She was breathing hard and making tiny little mewing sounds with every thrust. We didn’t last long after that. I felt Amanda’s body stiffen, then relax, then stiffen again. She pushed her mound down against me and began to shudder. Suddenly, she lifted her hips and pushed down over me hard, cried out, then lifted herself and pushed back down again. I felt her whole body shaking around my cock, and that was all I could take. I shot the first stream of seed deep into her body just as she began making little cries of ecstasy. She started pumping herself over me, driving my cock into her body as deeply as possible while she shook and moaned a continuous stream of little “ooh” sounds. I shot twice more before she collapsed on top of me and covered my mouth with hers. The wet, sticky kiss was incredibly sensuous. After a minute, I tried to pull out of her, but she held me tight and whispered, “No, please…, I need you to stay inside me.” With that, she laid her cheek against my neck. I felt her panting breath on my shoulder, and felt her heart pounding against my chest. Both gradually returned to something close to normal as I held her in my arms. She fell asleep there, a little later, cradled against my chest. I carefully rolled her beside me, covered us with the sheet, and went to sleep with her head on my shoulder. The voice startled me out of the daydream. “Mark, Honey, it’s time for lunch. How ‘bout finding us a place to park? After we eat, I’ll drive for a while.” I looked over at Mandy. It was hard to imagine how I’d gotten along without her. Hell, it was hard to imagine how I’d ever managed to live without her. “OK. There’s a rest stop about five miles from here.” ‘You’ve been pretty quiet this morning. Something wrong?” “Nope. I was just thinking. Everything’s perfect, Sweetheart.” I’d dropped her in Springfield at her mom’s and promised to call as soon as I got to St. Louis. Over the next few months, I arranged my loads so I got to Springfield at least once every couple weeks. We’d agreed she’d stay at her mother’s until the day she was rid of Jake. That day took almost three months, and she had to threaten to have him arrested for abuse before he agreed to the divorce. His lawyer advised him to give her anything she wanted if he wanted to stay out of jail, and Jake was smart enough to accept. Mandy let him keep that little red pickup, but sold everything else including his bass boat. We were married that March, and I picked up a load to Miami for our honeymoon. Mandy said we might as well earn some money on the way down. We had a week layover, and then hauled a load of oranges and grapefruit to Chicago. About six months later, Mandy insisted she could learn to drive and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I dropped her in Louisville at Reynolds for a while, and picked her back up with a shiny new CDL in her purse. I’ll admit I was a little tense for the first thousand miles or so, and the floorboard on the passenger side has a dent from me stomping on the brake pedal that was supposed to be there. Really, it was all just me. She’s a great driver. It does piss me off that she can back better than I can, and that she won’t let me forget it. I stuffed the last bite of cheeseburger down and leaned back against the dinette cushion. “Mandy, you sure you’re OK to drive? You’re getting pretty big.” Mandy stuck out her little pink tongue. “I can still reach the pedals. Besides, we have to get to St. Louis so we can pick up the next load. We need the money. I called the factory this morning. They’ll have the sleeper on our new tractor next Thursday so I scheduled a load for Elkhart on Wednesday. It’ll be nice having the extra room, especially after the baby comes.” I don’t know what I’m going to do while Mandy’s in Springfield at her mother’s. The doctor says she’ll have to stay off the road the last month and for at least a couple more afterward. I’ll be lost without her. She’s the one who got the laptop to work with the cell phone so we can schedule loads on-line. She does the books, keeps up the logbook, and schedules all the maintenance. Eighteen Wheels & A Denim Miniskirt Well…, in truth…, I can do all that, too. It’s just that I’ve gotten used to having her along, you know? I’ve got the best of everything – a job I love, a wife I love more, and she loves coming with me. Not many guys can say that. Sometimes, I wonder if it was fate or just blind luck that I was driving to Hopkinsville that day. Maybe there’s some master plan for all of us, and that day was my date with destiny. Then again, maybe it was all just that cute little denim miniskirt. *********************************** Thanks for reading this work. Please vote to indicate how much you enjoyed it, and leave comments or feedback if you can spare the time. Your votes and feedback are the only way I will know how much you enjoyed my effort, and furnish the only means to improve my writing. Thanks again, Ronde.