Road To Nowhere
- 2 years ago
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Road To Nowhere free porn video
‘Fuck! Just my goddamned luck!’ Though no stranger to cursing, Pam’s outburst had a rare fury as her brand new MINI coasted, engine silent, to the side of the country road.
‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK, fuck, fuck-fuck!’ The car settled to a stop. It wasn’t just that her still-got-that-new-car-smell MINI had died. It had died, as her next vitriol proclaimed, ‘In the middle of FUCKING NOWHERE!’
Pam pounded her fists on the steering wheel: the universal, futile signal to an automobile that its owner is less than happy. Her cell phone was no more helpful: twelve noon, no signal. The fine city of Fucking Nowhere didn’t have cell coverage.
‘Fuck,’ she said, this time not more than a sigh. Pam collapsed back into her seat. ‘Might as well sit and wait. Eventually someone is going to go by… I hope’ thought Pam. The road stretched straight ahead and behind. She could see far enough to have plenty of advance warning to flag down a passing motorist.
No denying the undeniable. Barring a miracle she was going to miss her flight. Time had already been running tight, that’s why she had taken this god-forsaken shortcut through nowhere in the first place. Now she had all the time in the world and nowhere to be. Which was probably a good thing, because Nowhere was exactly where she was. For all she knew she might not have a job anymore.
In the three years since this young female advertising apprentice first walked through the doors of Ward Worldwide, Pam had been on the fast track. With her non-threatening girl-next-door looks she was able to work well in the male world of automotive advertising. Her shapely figure and unassuming demeanor got her foot in the door, and her marketing ideas landed the account.
It didn’t take long to go from shock absorbers to performance tires, bigger and better accounts. Pam had made a name for herself. This trip was the big break. Her boss had agreed to give her a shot at a major account: a big-name Japanese auto manufacturer. And now it looked like she had royally blown it.
An hour later there had been no passing motorists and all hope of catching her flight had long since passed. The people of FN, as she had begun to call her temporary home in the sun, must not have much to do. A half hour ago the car had gotten too hot to leave the windows up. At least the radio worked, though in FN the only station was an oldies station. The sounds of ‘America’ drifted out the open window.
I been through the desert on a horse with no name,
It felt good to be out of the rain,
In the desert you can’t remember your name,
Cos there ain’t no-one for to give you no pain,
‘Fitting.’ she thought. A grumble from her stomach reminded her that in her rush to get to the airport she had skipped breakfast. And now having the windows down wasn’t enough. The car was getting hot and her back was sweating against the seat.
‘Not much chance of AAA happening by, is there?’ she said to the MINI. Getting out of the car she peeled off the jacket of her skirt suit. God only knew how long she could sit here without a passer-by: time to hoof it. At least she was wearing walkable sandals and not heels. She always wore sandals when flying, airport security had done her that favor.
Not thrilled to be wandering alone in the middle of FN, Pam winced with the realization that her airport security unfriendly pepper spray was back home sitting uselessly on the counter.
She grabbed her purse, locked the door, and began her trek continuing in the direction she had been driving. No sense backtracking as she couldn’t remember passing anything for quite some time.
An hour’s hike later, still no traffic and nothing in sight. ‘Horse With No Name’ continued to echo in her head:
After two days in the desert sun,
My skin began to turn red,
After three days in the desert fun,
I was looking at a river bed,
Pam was beginning to worry. She wished she hadn’t left her jacket in the MINI. It would be nice to have something to shield the sun from her hot neck and shoulders, which she feared had already turned pink. She didn’t need three days in the desert sun. For that matter, three hours on the road to FN was more than enough. Checking her cell phone for at least the thirtieth time, her heart quickened. Connection! Only one short bar, but a connection! She dialed 911. It rang twice and she heard the line being picked up. Then nothing. The one little bar was gone.
Maybe she was just out of range. Pam ran back down the road, she trudged across weeded fields, she held her phone high in the air. Nothing. By now it had been over two hours since the MINI’s engine had sputtered to silence.
And the story it told of a river that flowed,
Made me sad to think it was dead.
Pam was beginning to get nervous. This could be bad. Though she dearly wanted to, she resisted crying. Fundamental thoughts like conserving water crossed her mind, and though she was unsure if it would make any difference, tears are water.
Hoping to do something about her dry mouth, Pam was engrossed searching her purse in hope of a stick of gum or a Tic-tac and didn’t notice the approaching cloud of dust. The truck was nearly to her when the rumble caused her to abandon her search.
The truck was ancient, a tow truck, the sort that were really nothing more than a hoist mounted in the back of a pickup. This particular pickup looked like something from TV’s Mayberry, maybe older. Pam was amazed that the rumbling heap could even stay together. But who was she to be choosy. After all, it was her brand-spanking-new MINI sitting dead a few miles down. The truck skidded to a stop and a dust cloud thrown up by the tires grew, temporarily enveloping the truck.
‘Di’ja cawl nien unnunn?’ she heard through the grumbling engine and settling dust cloud.
‘What?’ she yelled trying to be heard over the rumble of the old truck.
The truck’s engine went silent. ‘Did ya call nine-one-one?’ came the reply. The dust had settled and Pam could now see the driver. He sat in the GMC straddling the open window with his free arm resting on the door, his fingertips drumming.
‘Yes, that was me’ Pam replied.
‘Are ya in any kinda trouble?’
‘Well other than my car crapping out and being stranded in the middle of Fuh…’ Pam caught herself. Nothing to be gained by taking it out on this fellow, ‘No, I guess I’m OK.’
‘OK, well you’re lucky I’m around. State police are at least an hour away. They got a 911 hang up and asked me to take a peek. Jus’ a sec while I call ’em and tell ’em know everything’s OK.’
‘OK. Thank you Ted.’
‘Howd’ you know my name was Ted?’
‘Just a lucky guess.’ Pam said pointing at the side of the truck on which was hand-painted ‘Teds Towing’ in what looked to be white house paint. At least it looked like it had once been white.
‘Oh. Yeah.’ Ted grimaced an embarrassed smile. ‘OK, well I gotta call this in.’ Ted pulled his arm into the truck, the arm of someone not unaccustomed to hard work. While Ted placed his call Pam did her best to measure him up. Nice face, though a shave might help. Hard to tell about his dark brown hair as the truck’s open window had tussled it pretty bad. But it was that tanned arm that Pam really noticed. That arm that had went from the impatient fingers, up the sinew of muscles, and disappearing into a white sleeveless T.
‘Not too bad looking’ Pam thought to herself. ‘Shame. I can’t imagine they hire the best and brightest to drive truck in FN’. She laughed. Funny how mere minutes ago she was concerned about saving water, basic survival. Now her biggest worry was that the tow truck driver might be Jethro Bodine.
Ted got out of the truck and came over to her. ‘OK, all set. What do you say we go get that car of yours?’ Pam nodded. Ted really didn’t sound bad at all. His low voice sort of reminded her of the deep rumble of the truck.
She reviewed her own condition: Filthy feet, knee length suit skirt, a sweat-soaked white blouse. With social graces again more relevant than survival, Pam blushed to note that with all her sweating the blouse would work well in a wet t-shirt contest.
‘OK, jump in the truck and lets go get your car’ said Ted. Picking her blouse out away from her skin, Pam got into the driver side. As Ted wrestled the truck’s transmission into first, Pam noted the truck was every bit as nice on the inside as the out. The seats were torn and had been patched with duct tape innumerable times, but obviously not innumerable enough. She felt her bottom sink into one of the rips. Despite the welcome breeze through the window, the cab smelled of grease, stale beer, gutted fish, and something she couldn’t identify.
‘Aren’t you going to ask where my car is?
Ted laughed. ‘Well, seeing as I came from the north and didn’t see it, and since you were coming from the south, I gotta figure south. Right?’
Pam nodded.
‘Guess we’re even’ said Ted. Pam gave him a perplexed glance. ‘That name on the door thing.’ he said. ‘Boy did I feel dumb. But we’re even now.’ he laughed again.
What had seemed an eternity to walk took no time to retrace in the pickup. Approaching the MINI Ted asked ‘Um, so where’s the other half of your car?’ Though Pam had probably head that ‘joke’ a dozen times a month she refrained from wincing and laughed politely.
Pam stayed in the cab and watched as Ted hitched and hoisted the MINI. First impressions weren’t too far off. As far as she could tell Ted was lean and strong from his head to his toes. His jeans rode beltless on a narrow waist which rose into a well-muscled chest. Then there were those shoulder muscles wrapping their way down his arms and up his tanned neck. But the show didn’t last long, in minutes they were again heading north.
As the pickup gathered speed, the breeze filling the cab was a welcome relief. Pam pulled her blouse here and there to let the wind fill it, cooling and taking at least some of the damp out. Ted seemed to keep his eyes on the road, but she thought she saw a quick dart of his eyes when the front of her blouse billowed in the wind. Not that she hadn’t taken a few darting looks of her own.
‘Um, NOW can I ask where we are going?’ said Pam, realizing she hadn’t a clue.
‘Closest repair shop back the way you came is 57 miles. My shop is only ten minutes north. Plus I do better work. If that’s OK with you.’ he said.
‘Yeah, that’s fine with me. I think I need to call the MINI people though.’ Pam took out her cell: still no signal.
‘Not gonna work here in Pashaw County. No coverage. We aren’t important enough for that sort of thing.’
‘Figures’ Pam muttered to herself. So Fucking Nowhere has a name: Pashaw County.
Ted continued ‘I’ve got a regular phone at the shop. ‘course ya gotta crank it just right to get it going and can only make calls afternoons when Thelma is working the switchboard down to the trading post.’
Pam looked at him incredulous. Ted started laughing. ‘Not really. We aren’t quite that stuck in the past.’ Pam blushed realizing her comment hadn’t been as private as she had thought. ‘I’m really sorry, I…’
Still smiling his easy smile, Ted said ‘Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I feel the same way. But to be honest, in the end I know this is where I want to be.’ After some thought he continued, ‘Hell, now-a-days we’ve even got ourselves commodes right in the house!’
This time, Pam and Ted laughed together.
The tow to Ted’s shop was uneventful. Ted told Pam how he lived in the same home in which he had grown up. How he had went off to college and ended up in a reasonably well-paying insurance underwriting career. How life in the cubicle had sucked his soul, and about his eventual decision to go back where he belonged to take over his dad’s repair shop. He lost his characteristic smile and his eyes moistened as he told of the painful but priceless time with his parents during their last days.
Pam told her history: Career woman. Nothing in life more important than climbing the corporate ladder. How at first she had thrilled to the creative and artistic outlets it provided. And how meetings with corporate know-it-alls, a climate where politics outweighed quality and the cutthroat nature of the business eventually deflated the joys.
‘Not that I’ll have a job tomorrow. I was on the way to meet with our biggest account. I have a feeling they aren’t going to be too thrilled.’ Pam surprised herself to feel almost relieved about it.
‘Ted’s Towing and Service’ read the front of the metal-fab building housing Ted’s business. Unlike the truck, the building was modern, well-kept, and tidy. A second drive curved toward a beautiful brick farmhouse. Despite its age — Pam was no expert but she guessed at least seventy-five — the home had obviously been well cared for.
‘That’s my house. I’ve got another shop out back of it. It’s smaller so you can’t see it from here. I like to think if it as my play house.’ With that Ted hopped out of the truck Interrupting any question Pam might have had to his comment, Ted opened his door and hopped out of the truck.
Ted showed Pam to the shop phone. ‘There ya go. Go ahead and make your calls while I try to figure out what’s wrong with your roller skate… er, I mean, car.’
Pam was starting to like Ted’s friendly sense of humor, despite his lack of originality. Pam was able to finish her phone calls, the first to let friends know that she was OK, and the second to MINI road service. Ted returned with the verdict of bad fuel pump. A few calls later a fuel pump was promised Fed Ex the next morning.
The day’s activities were taking their toll on Pam. Tired and hungry she asked Ted to call her a cab for the nearest hotel.
‘OK, now there’s maybe a problem.’ said Ted. ‘I can call you one, but the nearest one is almost 40 miles from here. Nearest taxi is probably 50 miles. I might be able to find someone to take you but I gotta stay here — I am a businessman you know.’ Again that easy ear-to-ear grin that was making her feel just a bit flush.
‘We don’t get many out-of-towners here’ he said gesturing out the window.
Pam nodded.
‘OK, don’t take this wrong or anything, but if you aren’t looking for anything fancy, I have an extra room up to the house. You’re welcome to stay until your car is purring again. The room locks in case you might worry about me.’ Again the reassuring smile.
‘How do I know you aren’t some sort of Norman Bates’ she said, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Ted thought for a moment. ‘Well then, I guess you can just shoot me.’ He reached under the counter and set a handgun on top.
Pam could tell he was serious. ‘No, I guess that’s not necessary if I can make another call and tell my friends the address and that I’m staying here.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ He handed her a Ted’s Towing business card. ‘Here’s the address and phone number. Make your calls then let’s grab your stuff and get some dinner.’
The inside of Ted’s home wasn’t at all what Pam would have expected. Rather than the bachelor pad she expected, it had remained a modestly decorated family home. Ted carried her bags and led her upstairs to her room.
‘You can stay in here. As you can probably tell, it’s my old room.’
A hand-made plaque written in a youthful hand hung on the door:
TEDS ROOM
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
THIS MEENS YOU!
‘That isn’t quite true anymore. For some reason I never took it down. After my folks passed I moved into the master suite, so this is your room for now. Bathroom’s down the hall, fresh towels and such in the cabinet. I’ll give you a call when dinner’s ready.’ Ted’s smile had a hint of softness Pam hadn’t noticed before.
As he had promised, the room locked from the inside.
The room told Ted’s life story. L
ittle League trophies sat on a shelf along side books about cars and engine repair. The walls were covered with framed letters, photos, and awards. A picture of a younger Ted catching a football with both feet off the ground, ‘Pashaw HS’ just legible on his uniform. His high school diploma with Validictorian-stamped gold star. A National Merit Scholar Finalist Award. College acceptance letter offering full-ride scholarship. She smiled remembering her initial country bumpkin impression.
After unpacking, Pam grabbed what she needed and headed to the bath. She was a little surprised to discover that the old farmhouse had only a tub, no shower. Along with the washcloths and towels she found bath oil beads and bubble bath. Feeling like she stunk to high heaven and could use all the help she could get, Pam took avail of both. She felt relieved to get out of the dank outfit and into the warm tub. It must have been years since she had taken the time to soak in a nice foamy bath. Swirling the water to keep the temperature even as it filled, she enjoying the lapping of the waves against her skin. Once filled, she laid back, closed her eyes, drifting into thoughts of carefree days gone by.
Pam was in the middle of a long walk when she woke in the tub, without a clue how long she had been asleep. A quick check for puckered toes or fingers reassured her it hadn’t been too long. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so relaxed. Reluctantly she got out, dried, and wrapped herself in a towel. Checking first to make sure the hall was clear, she made the short dash to her room.
Preferring to travel light, Pam’s wardrobe options were slim: clean panties and bra, a second skirt suit, and oversize T-shirt and jogging shorts. ‘I doubt this is going to be a black-tie event’ she thought to herself, and opted for the shorts and shirt with fresh underwear.
Dressed, Pam opened the door and entered the empty hallway. An aroma wafting up the stairs told her dinner wasn’t far off, and it smelled good. Of course right now a butter sheet of paper might taste good. It was near dinner time and Pam hadn’t eaten all day. It seemed so long ago that she had skipped breakfast dashing out of her apartment to catch a plane.
Downstairs, Pam found Ted setting the kitchen table. ‘Hey there, I hope spaghetti and salad are OK. I apologize, but I don’t keep a lot of food since it is just me. Spaghetti and garlic bread will be ready in about five if you’d like to start on your salad. Wine?’ Still a little wary of her situation, Pam opted for ice water.
Diner was filling and filled with light and polite conversation. Pam helped clear the table and had to admit to herself — as if there had ever been any question — that there was nothing wrong with having dinner with a good-looking guy. Everything he did he seemed to do so effortlessly. He had a certain calmness about him, even when laughing.
‘I know dinner wasn’t very fancy, but I do have a nice dessert planned. Interested?’
After skipping two meals Pam though dessert sure couldn’t hurt.
‘OK then. Why don’t you go into the living room and watch some TV while I get it ready?’
Pam tried to pay attention to an episode of Seinfeld she’d seen twice before, but the clanking and banging of pots and pans and who-knows-what coming out of the kitchen was incredible.
‘Everything OK in there?’ she called out.
‘Almost ready! Just hang tight.’ The rattling and banging continued until Ted emerged from the kitchen carrying a beautiful silver platter covered with an ornate silver dome, the sort used in hotel room service.
‘Ready?’ he asked, with the now-familiar grin.
Pam stifled a giggle. ‘Um, sure.’
‘Whalla!’ he exclaimed, and with a flourish swept the cover off the platter and to behind his back, revealing: Two glasses of milk and a bag of Oreo cookies.
The absurdity took a moment to register, but when it did, Pam could not hold back. She burst out laughing with Ted joining in. It was that rare infectious laughter that feeds on itself, building until both Pam and Ted were nearly choking for air with tears in their eyes.
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