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The trouble with living in a small town is that everyone knows everyone and someone is always watching. You can’t get away with anything (in theory) because someone will see you and then the gossip starts. In any given situation what the gossips don’t know they invent on the spot, embroidering the original story to a point that it returns to the person who started the gossip as a brand new story.
That’s the environment I grew up in and was used to. I was also used to being very careful in given situations. Let some old biddy see me being kissed by a boy and the rumour would be that I was three months pregnant and a hasty wedding was on the cards. Or a girlfriend gives me a peck on the cheek and I was a lesbian, breaking my dear old dad’s heart over my refusal to get married.
I actually had no objection to getting married but you need to be asked. On top of that the assorted talent currently available in our immediate area was somewhat short of my requirements. I wouldn’t really consider my requirements too onerous. Is it too much to hope for to expect your future spouse to have at least two brain cells to rub together? Apparently?
While I haven’t had any proposals for marriage I have had proposals of another sort. That sort of proposition is remarkably easy to turn down, meaning that I was nearly nineteen and a virgin.
I didn’t have any hang-ups about sex, or at least I didn’t think I had any. When you’re in a small town with lots of farms around you learn about the birds and the bees at an early age. You also learn about the bulls and the stallions and tell me what man can measure up to that sort of example.
Being nineteen my parents tactfully advised me that if I wanted spending money then I really needed to be gainfully employed. Accordingly I’d gone looking for work and was now a waitress at the diner down on the highway. It was quite a busy place, situated a half day drive from two cities so truckies going from one city to the other tended to pull in for their lunch and dinner break. Quite a few of them would spend the night in the parking lot behind the diner, grabbing breakfast before continuing in the morning.
I tended to refer to the diner as the proposition palace, as a lot of those truckies passed propositions about like candy. (Sometimes the propositions came with candy.) I steadfastly refused to accept any propositions but I can’t say the same for the other waitresses. I’m not saying they accepted any, but neither am I saying they didn’t. I just act dumb if asked.
A little bit of information about myself. I’m nineteen (in case you weren’t paying attention), still living with my parents, don’t have a steady boyfriend (or even an unsteady one), blonde (yes, it’s natural), blue eyes (and no, I don’t wear contacts), work at the local diner (you should already know that), am quite fit (waitressing in a busy diner keeps you that way), medium in size, and have an excellent figure (according to my mirror and the truckies who try it on). I’m busy squirreling away my money, helped by free meals at the diner and free lodgings at home with my parents. It’s my intention to save enough to go on a trip to Europe.
I was working one Tuesday morning. I had the early shift that covered both breakfast and lunch, going home just after lunch with the next shift covering afternoon tea and dinner. I don’t know why but Tuesdays are always relatively dead compared to other days of the week. Breakfast is busy enough because we catch the Monday night travellers but lunch was a lazy time. That was both good and bad, light work but also light tips.
It was near the end of the official lunch time when this guy comes in. We get a lot of regulars but this guy I’d never seen before, and I doubt that any of the others had seen him either, because they would have commented.
He was big, in his thirties, about two metres tall, and broad with it, and it didn’t look to me as if he was fat. Just very solid. His hair was so black it had that blue sheen you get from truly dark hair. I was going with it being his natural colour as he didn’t look like the kind of man who would mess about with nature where he was concerned.
He wasn’t exactly an ugly man, but neither was he handsome. I suppose his features were on the plain side, maybe verging towards ugly. OK, pleasantly ugly I suppose you could say. He was clean shaven but honestly, I’m not sure he should have bothered. You could see what could almost be called fur showing as a ring around his neck where he’d stopped shaving. I idly wondered just how hairy he was. My first though on seeing him was that he was some sort of mutant gorilla, but now I was switching this to some sort of mutant bear. From his size a bear of the grizzly family.
He grabbed a seat and I was there with a menu straight away, handing it to him.
“Can I get you some coffee while you decide what you want?” I asked him. “Coffee’s free, by the way. We keep it flowing to draw the truckies in.”
He gave me a wonderful smile and nodded.
“Coffee abidinpaşa escort sounds great,” he rumbled. “Just black, thank you.”
I fetched the coffee and he put down the menu as I approached. I could see him looking me over with masculine appreciation and I was thinking they’re all the same.
“Thanks,” he said as I put the coffee down. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a cute little thing? Ha, what am I saying? Probably all the truckies have said so at one time or another.”
I smiled and waited for the inevitable proposition but he surprised me. He picked up the menu and handed it to me and gave me his order, and his order was quite in keeping with his size.
I started chatting with him while waiting for Mike to cook his lunch and found myself telling him about my wish to go to Europe for a holiday. For his part he said he was currently on holiday and was just touring the country in a mobile home, going anywhere he wanted and stopping whenever he felt like it.
His name was Andrew but most people just called him Drew. I told him I was Miranda and friends called me Miranda. Truckies, I said rather acidly, tended to call me Honey or Sweetheart.
His lunch came and he settled down to eat it. I kept one eye on him and refilled his coffee when he finished the cup, with him smiling and nodding his thanks. He finally finished and paid his bill, leaving a very nice tip, I might add. Not an excessive tip, but a nice one. All in all I’d have to say he was one of the politest customers I’d ever had.
Drew was my last customer and shortly after he left the next shift arrived. (We have three waitresses per shift. I was just lucky to score Drew at one of my tables.) I was delayed a couple of minutes during the handover and the other two girls had already left when I went trotting out the back door, the dust from their cars still hanging in the air.
My little car was over to the side, parked under the shade of a big old tree. Parked right next to it, fully exposed to the sun, was this enormous mobile home. Home? This was more of a mobile mansion. Drew’s transport was my guess.
I’d reached my car and was burrowing into my purse for my keys when I heard a door open. Looking up I saw Drew stepping out of the mobile home.
“Miranda,” he said with a nod. “Shift over and heading home?”
I nodded. “And glad to be doing so,” I admitted. “I like your car but why did you park it in the sun? I’d have thought you’d grab any shade that was available.”
“Car? Don’t insult my baby,” he said with a laugh. “You’ll hurt her feelings.” He tapped a knuckle on the side of the home. “Insulation to stop me overheating.” Pointing upwards he added, “Solar panels to keep my batteries charged. I can plug into the mains system if I have to but most times the solar power is sufficient for my needs.”
“Nice,” I said, meaning it. “It’s an impressive looking home.”
“That it is. Would you like to have a proper look at it?”
I hesitated. He was a stranger, after all, and he was effectively inviting me into his house. Still, he had shown excellent manners earlier and he didn’t look as though he was just waiting to pounce.
“That would be nice,” I agreed.
Instead of standing back and letting me enter he strolled along the side of the mobile home and I trotted along after him. Reaching the back he pulled something out of his pocket and pressed a button and the rear wall seem to just slide down and slip under the home. In the partition revealed was this huge motorbike.
“Wow. My brother has a bike but it’s nothing like that. What is it?”
“It’s a Triumph Bonneville Speed Twin. Very useful to get around when I don’t want to take the van with me. You may have noticed that the van is a bit big to just run down to the local store for some milk.”
“Mm. I had noticed,” I admitted.
Pointing up he indicated that he had a small dish for a satellite channel. What could I say? All the toys of home.
We finally arrived at the front door again (yes, he also had a back door) and this time he opened the door and ushered me in. I did have another momentary hesitation but he was being nice and polite and wasn’t coming on to me in any way, so what the hell, I climbed in.
I have to admit to being a little disappointed once I was inside. He had really nice carpet, better than the carpet in my room, but the interior was strangely bare. Oh, sure, there was a stove, a sink, and some cupboards along one side but the rest of the home was effectively empty.
“Um, very nice,” I said and he laughed.
“You sound a little disappointed,” he said. “Expecting something more?”
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “I mean you’ve got a satellite dish outside but no TV inside. You seem to be short a few items.”
“Have you noticed how the windows are a little recessed,” he asked, and I looked over at them.
“Um, only on one side,” I pointed out. “Why is that?”
He reached over and flicked a switch akyurt escort and the next thing I knew a table was folding down out of the wall, benches included. It settled into position and he had a nice dining table there.
“Wow. That’s neat. What else have you got hidden away?”
He pointed to a flat panel on the roof.
“The television that you couldn’t see,” he said.
He walked down near where the panel was and pressed another button and this big plasma screen folded down and took up a position against the far wall.
“Not bad. I take it that wall pops out a couch or something?”
“It does. Basically it’s a couch that can be used as a single bed or unfolded into a double bed. Alternatively I can rotate the television so that it can be watched from the master bed. I am much too big to be really comfortable on a small bed.”
He pointed to the far end of the van.
“That door down there leads to a small bathroom and toilet. If you look up you’ll see a long bar across the roof. That is a wall that can be used to isolate the rear of the van into a private bedroom on those occasions that I have a guest.”
“Uh-huh. And what does the guest do if they need the toilet and it’s behind the wall?”
“There’s an odour-free porta-potty that pops up out of the floor over there. Not that anyone has had cause to use it yet.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you,” I observed as we moved deeper into the van.
“Not me. It was this way when I got it. Not that I have any complaints. Whoever did design it certainly knew what he was doing.”
At that point he put out a hand to stop me going deeper and pressed another button. This time a huge bed folded down from the wall, a vast ocean of bedness, filling the rear end of the van.
“And this is my bed,” Drew said with a satisfied smile. “A full king-size giving me the room I need.”
“Yes, I can see that it would,” I said, slightly stunned. I hadn’t known beds came in that size. “Um, how come it’s fully made up? I’d have thought the covers would fall towards the bottom once the bed was elevated.”
Drew casually lifted the top mattress and lifted. Looking under I could see that the covers were held by a clip.
“The clip is on elastic so there is some give if you’re in bed but it’s firm enough to hold the covers in place.”
Damn, but that was a good idea. I’d have to get some of those for my own bed. I’m always kicking covers off and waking up cold.
“To really appreciate the bed you need to hop up on it. Why don’t you try it?”
Drew grandly waved me towards the bed. Did he think I was born yesterday?
“I don’t think so,” I said, still smiling.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I know the sort of thing that my getting on the bed could lead to.”
“And this is a problem because?”
Damn it. He was laughing at me, I just knew it.
“I don’t do that sort of thing,” I told him, hating how prim and proper I sounded.
“What, never?” he repeated.
“If you think I’m going to say ‘well, hardly ever’ you’ve got rocks in your head,” I snapped.
“I wondered if you’d recognise the lines,” he said. “Well, to change the narrative a bit, why don’t you do that sort of thing?”
“That’s my business, surely?” I said rather huffily.
“Not really. As a prospective partner in that sort of thing it’s only fair that I’m told why I’m missing out.”
The gall of the man. Before I could tell him what I was about to tell him he put up a hand to silence me.
“Wait a minute. Let’s see how well I can guess. Possibilities. Lesbian?” He promptly shook his head. “Nah. You don’t have that vibe. Frigid? Again I’m going to have to go with no way known. Um, a vow of chastity?” He gave me a considering look and then shook his head. “I’m calling no on that one as well. It seems to me that leaves two options. Either you haven’t met the right man or you’re shit scared. The way you’re looking at me would suggest that scared is one thing you’re not. So basically, you haven’t met the right man. Am I right?”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug.
“In other words, yes. If I was wrong you’d have said so.”
I gave him a nasty look and he just smiled.
“Well, don’t worry that I’ll try to force you. A guy could get into way too much trouble that way.”
I was rather relieved at that and I guess my face showed it. I was about to suggest that it was time that I was gone when Drew made another suggestion.
“Seeing that you’re not going to let me get, ah, ‘over friendly’ with you how about I just kiss you and stroke those lovely breasts of yours. I suspect that not having met any of the locals that you’re really happy with you’ve probably beaten them off with a stick before they ever got that far. You may find it will do you good to have a man touch your breasts. Let you know what it’s like while not committing you to anything. You have drawn a line in the sand, ankara escort after all.”
“Why would I let you do that?” I demanded.
“Like I said, it’ll show you what it’s like to have a man admiring your physical attributes in a tactile manner. At the same time it’d give me a chance to get my hands on a pair of lovely breasts. Quite frankly I’ve been itching to touch them from the moment I first saw you. We can stop any time you feel things are getting away from you.”
“How do I know you won’t try something more?” I asked, slightly shocked with myself to find that I was considering it. But really, just touching my breasts for a bit couldn’t hurt, and I did like him. I could always call stop at any stage — he promised.
“Of course I’ll try something more,” he said. “All men are born with wandering hands syndrome. All you have to do is watch them and call a halt when required.”
He gave me one of those lovely smiles again. How can a man who resembled a mutant grizzly bear have such a lovely smile? And he was being honest about his intentions. Most men would have lied like crazy.
“Just a few kisses and, um.” I waved my hand in the vague direction of my chest.
“Just a few kisses and some um,” he said, smiling in a teasing manner.
He sat down on the bed, reaching out to take hold of my arm and draw me closer.
“Just sit on my lap for now,” he said, casually lifting me up and placing me there. I was suddenly acutely aware of how strong he was.
With that he tilted my head back and kissed me. They were just little teasing kisses to start with, but they were getting more meaningful as we continued. His hand was rubbing lightly over my back while his other one was rubbing my tummy. I just ignored them until his hand closed over my breast.
Not my blouse. Not my bra. My breast, with flesh on flesh contact.
“Woah. Stop,” I gasped and he lifted his head away. Not his hand, just his head.
“Problem,” he asked.
“I, ah, that is, um.” I dithered, not knowing what to say. I’d already sort of agreed that he could touch my breast but I’d imagined that it would have been through my clothes. It dawned on me that that back rubbing had hidden the fact that he was unclipping my bra and the tummy rub disguised the fact that buttons were popping open.
I’d been waving in the general direction of my breasts once again while I babbled. He just nodded.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “You’ll feel more comfortable with these things right off.”
Before I could deny it he was brushing both my blouse and my bra straps off my shoulders, thoughtfully helping me out of them. I just froze for a moment staring at my naked breasts, fully aware that he was also looking at them.
“You really are very lovely,” he said softly, and he bent his head and kissed my breasts.
That felt so strange. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. I think I did, somewhat, but it was something I’d never felt before. He was sending nervous little shivers through me. I didn’t know why. I’d touched my own breasts before, even pinched the nipples erect, but it hadn’t felt anything like this.
He lifted his head and kissed me some more, his hand now rubbing over my breasts. I was a lot more conscious of that hand on my breast than I was of the kissing. I finally reach for his hand and pushed it away, slightly surprised and a lot relieved when he let me.
I was being naïve, I guess. He just dropped his hand and rested it on my knee. Then he started stroking my leg a little. I hadn’t known that the inside of your leg was so sensitive.
He started kissing my breasts again, even sucking lightly on my nipples. My breasts were feeling heavy and my nipples felt tight, and he was distracting me from that hand on my leg. I suddenly realised that his hand had moved under my skirt and was moving closer to where he wasn’t allowed to go. I promptly closed my legs tighter together, blocking him.
He didn’t seem to mind. He just left his hand there, not trying to move it higher. After a few moments he started kissing me again.
Why not relax my legs a little, I told myself. I mean, all he can really do is touch me through my panties. Would it really be that bad to have him touch me there? I didn’t make a conscious decision to relax but I must have decided anyway because I could feel the edge of his hand rubbing against me in a most intimate manner.
I suppose I should have told Drew to remove his hand but it wasn’t actually hurting anything, was it? I mean, he was just rubbing me through my panties. I pretended to ignore it and let Drew kiss me some more.
I’ll admit to feeling rather tense by this stage, just a tad hot and bothered. Even while kissing Drew I found I couldn’t help but be more aware of his hand touching me down there than anything else. I felt him slip a finger under the crotch of my panties and I was going to comment but he didn’t follow though and do anything. His hand just moved away from where it was touching me. His hand came back to recommence the rubbing and I gave a squeal. He was now rubbing me flesh on flesh again. My panties were bunched over to the side and my pussy was now free range material, and Drew’s fingers were wandering very intimately.
“Drew,” I wailed, jerking my head away from him. “Your hand.”
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