The Right Truck For Linda

*She was the first one I noticed as I entered the cafe. Sitting in a booth by the window she looked up briefly from contemplating her coffee cup. A pale, pretty face, no make-up, vivid blue eyes, that I thought, in that brief moment, may have been crying. A full, but not oversize bosom, emphasised by the short-sleeved blue summer dress she was wearing.Taking a seat at a table in the next aisle, from where, through the window, I could keep an eye on my new truck, I was also able to keep the pleasant sight of her in my view. A waitress with a bosom that was four times that of the lady in blue took my order for coffee and pancakes. She treated me to an up and down stare from eyes blackened in eye shadow. "Haven't seen you in here before," she hummed."You're off my normal route," I told her.The waitress gave me a provocative glance before waddling back to the counter, where a huddle of hefty truck drivers was sitting. One, an ugly looking guy with about four days? stubble, reached out, placed his fingers under her right breast and flicked upwards."Time out for a quickie, Beryl?" he growled, while the others laughed."In your dreams, Bolo. I've tried your style before." And she added with a grin, "All I got was a sore throat." As she passed him, she stopped, said something in his ear, while nodding in the direction of the girl in blue.Bolo looked, and his lips pursed appreciatively. Smirking, he murmured to the others, and mocking responses were audible, "No chance." "Too fancy for you."Bolo lumbered between the tables before perching himself in a seat opposite the girl, who, I had time to estimate, was somewhere in her early twenties."What's a bonny lass like you doing out in the wilds on your own?"The blue eyes looked at him warily, "I'm hoping to get a lift."Bolo shuffled in his seat, "A lift, is it? Lifts can cost.""I've got some money," her voice was weak and uncertain."Money? Aye, that' s one way." I didn't like the route this was taking and could sense his intentions far too easily.The waitress arrived with my coffee and pancakes, and when I'd paid her, she glanced across to the other table, "That Bolo," she said, sotto voce, "just can't keep it in his pants. Heading for Glasgow. But listen to his patter." She chuckled, adding, "He's in for a hell of a shock."Puzzled, I watched the pair, while chewing on a pancake."Oh, that's too bad," Bolo was saying, so insincere I almost choked. "So where do you need to get to?"The girl hesitated before answering, ?Near Nottingham."My ears pricked up. I was carrying my cargo of whiskey back to a customer in my home base of Derby, not far from Nottingham. Then I heard Bolo's response, "Lady, this is your lucky day. That?s my route.""Cost?" she asked tentatively."Oh, we can discuss that later." I saw his thumbs?up gesture to his mates. I gulped at my coffee, sensing the girl?s danger. Involvement might be necessary, if things took the course I feared. She was too neat, too sweet, to be a floozie that this Bolo guy might be used to.Bolo glanced at his watch, "Hey, I should away. You finished your coffee?"The girl looked uncertain, "You're sure it?s all right?""What? Giving you a lift? Of course it will." His pause said it all.Bolo heaved himself to his feet, "No luggage or anything?"Beginning to slide from her seat, the girl shook her head and reached for her handbag. Bolo lumbered toward the door, giving another thumbs-up to his mates. The waitress was wearing a strange, anticipatory smile.The girl struggled from her seat, looking strangely clumsy. As she straightened, the reason became very clear. The front of her dress bulged hugely below the waist. God, she must have been at least seven months pregnant!I heard the gasps and chuckles, especially from the waitress. Bolo's face was a picture as he stared at the girl's bump. He ushered her out of the door, and when she was out he leaned back in to his crowing mates to say, "She still has a sexy mouth."The door closed, and the room was almost in uproar. I knew I couldn't just sit there. There were two pancakes left and I wrapped them in a serviette, stuck them in my pocket, and strode to the door.Stepping outside, I saw no sign of either of them, and I knew that they could not have travelled the space to where the trucks were lined up. Then, from my right I heard a whimper, and a growl of Bolo's voice, "Come on.. Pay time."Along from the entrance was a small enclave containing waste bins, and Bolo was standing with his back to me, clutching the kneeling girl's hair as she desperately tried to keep her head turned away from what he was offering.No time for discussions. Bolo was big, but he was no bigger than me. I'm no superhero, and normally stand well back when trouble looms. Truth was, I had never struck anyone in anger, but had donned boxing gloves a number of times at my local gym, and, right now, I was bloody angry. So, without further thought, I stepped closer and called urgently, "Bolo!"His head turned, and my fist caught him sweetly, on the nose and mouth, as I shouldered him to one side so that he didn't fall on the girl. He went down without a sound and his head bounced off the paving, his exposed erect penis collapsing like a deflated balloon. As he lay there groaning, I turned to the girl, and reached out to lift her to her feet.Eyes filled with fear, and still on her knees, she tried to back away, "Don't touch me. Please, don't hurt me." There was a red mark on her cheek that hadn't been there before, so Bolo must have struck her. I gave him an extra kick in the ribs for that. Hell, I was in a bad mood all right."I'm not going to hurt you," I said, trying to make my voice gentle, and contain all the truth of that promise. Definitely the original knight in shining armour, but this lady was going to take some convincing. Carefully I reached down, put my hands under her armpits, and gently lifted her trembling body to her feet. Even then she tensed away from me."Look, there are others in there who will gladly want to finish what that bastard started.""All men are bastards," she said flatly."All right. Anything you say, but we must get away from here," I said, and I reached out for kocaeli escort her hand. Tentatively, she took it, and followed me out towards the trucks."Whatever you do to me, you won't do anything to hurt my baby, will you?" she asked, as I tried to make pace commensurate with her condition."I'm not going to hurt you or your baby," I assured her, as we reached my truck, and with some difficulty I helped her up onto the passenger seat, where she sat back clutching her swollen belly. "You all right?""Yes," she said, and her worried eyes looked down at me as she asked, "Where are you taking me?""To Nottingham, I hope." That brightened her features. Happy about that, I hurried round to the driver's door, and was soon starting up the engine. From the road, I saw the cafe door open and a small group of men come out to look around. I wasn't expecting any follow up."I've got a little money," she said, after a while."I really don't want your money," I told her."What is it you want, then? Anything, as long as it doesn't hurt my--""Will you stop saying that?""All men are bastards."Exasperated, I shrugged my shoulders, and asked, "A bad experience? Want to talk about it?""No.""How far on are you?"Her hands spread over her belly, "Eight months.""Eight? Almost due. Christ, I'd better drive faster."And it was a relief to hear her give a little, if slightly bitter, laugh. The first she'd had for a while, I guessed. "You're strange," she said, and I sensed those vivid blue eyes searching for evidence of the bastard man. What kind of men had she been associating with?"What do I call you?""Linda." she said. "Linda Parr."?I'm Frank. Frank Beasley. Pleased to meet you." A sideways glance at her puzzled face had me wondering when anyone had been nice to her.After fifteen minutes of silence, I felt a nudge against my left shoulder as her head lolled there. I didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but it made me feel good to have her resting against me. Was I to be her comforter? How had she reached that roadside cafe, with no luggage, no other clothes, so pregnant and vulnerable?We were on the A9 south, in less than two hours we were through Inverness, and out into open country where the truck was suddenly buffeted by strengthening winds, while rain spattered across the windscreen. A traffic screen lit up with the words; STRONG WINDS. HIGH SIDED VEHICLES DRIVE SLOWLY.I had observed what high winds could do to careless truck drivers. The thudding of the wind against the truck roused Linda, as her head jerked up and away from my shoulder, and she uttered an anxious little, "Oh.""You were tired," I said calmly, as she was checking her handbag, and tugging her skirt down, as though fearful that I had performed some nefarious act while she slept."I didn't get any sleep last night," she said flatly.When she made no attempt to explain why, I asked, "No luggage?""No.""I'll listen if you want to talk about it," I said, but she turned her face away to look out of the window, saying nothing.The rain poured more heavily. The truck rocked alarmingly. Headlights were needed, as I peered out at shrouded hills.."Quite a storm," I said, and Linda gave a nervous nod. The cab radio told me that winds were gusting up to more than seventy miles per hour, and high sided vehicles were being advised to seek shelter."I'm going to have to pull over," I told Linda. This route was familiar and I soon found the short loop of road with a fringe of trees that would cut off the battering of the wind.Switching off the engine, I turned to Linda, "Are you hungry?" I asked, noticing her edge well away from me. I recovered the rumpled serviette from my pocket. I opened it out to find the misshapen pieces of pancakes.."What did you expect?" I asked her plaintively. "A three-course lunch?" It was good to see her smile, as she looked at the mess I was offering. "Go on," I kidded her, hoping to break her depression, not to mention her distrust of me. "Spoil yourself."I picked up a piece, and began chewing it, making a grand show of how delicious it was. Another slight smile as she reached out and popped a piece into her mouth. I glanced at my watch. I should have been in Pitlochry, over an hour ago. Yet we were still some two or three miles from there, and we were stationary.I saw that Linda was tucking into the pancake fragments, as though she hadn't eaten for a week. "You were really hungry " I said lightly.She looked at me guiltily before saying, "I'm sorry. I forgot you wanted..." Her voice trailed away, fearful, as though expecting punishment."Hey, go ahead and finish it. I'd prefer to eat big. There's a bottle of water under the dash there if you're thirsty."I watched her open the bottle take a couple of hearty gulps. Her face had attracted me in the cafe, and now I looked and admired the frail yet sensual quality about it. High cheek bones, fair skin, delicate slightly upturned nose, and those vivid blue eyes. All made slightly puffy by her condition, I guessed, but still quite lovely when framed by the dark hair, slightly dishevelled.She caught my gaze and a little colour appeared on her cheeks, "Why are you looking at me like that?""Like what?" I asked, pressing back against the door, to appear less threatening."Like... I don't know. Funny...""You have a face that demands being looked at. I like it."The reddening deepened, and she seemed to take that as a threat. She looked out at the rain and wind-tossed trees. "How long are we going to be here?" she asked.I told her that I was thinking of taking a chance, and trying for Pitlochry. "I could do with a good meal---somebody ate my pancakes."I tried to keep my tone light, and accompanied it with a smile, so she would know I wasn't complaining. She rewarded me with a smile of her own, as she said, "I was hungry."I needed to call my brother, Harry, who was also my business partner, to let him know where I was. As I dialled on my mobile Linda's face showed some anxiety.?My brother,? I explained, and she looked worried. ?He?s very near where you want to be.?Harry?s voice was immediately irritable, "Frank, where the hell are you?"When I told him he became more irritable, kocaeli escort bayan but he did know about the northerly storms."Just take care of our investment.? Those were Harry?s closing words. Hell, he was more concerned about our brand new truck than about me. He'd have had a fit if I'd told him that I had a pregnant woman on board.As I pushed the mobile back into my pocket, I told Linda, "We share the business.?Her eyes wandered around the cab interior, "Looks very new," she said."Our pride and joy," I told her. "Now, look," I went on, as I started up the engine, ?it's Pitlochry or bust." I pulled out onto the road, into the howl of the wind.When we?d begun developing the business our father had started we had made specific rules which included no passengers, under any circumstances. I wondered whether Harry appreciate this particular circumstance.Four o'clock and Pitlochry was busy. But I found space in a truck parking area. The wind was still fierce as we left the truck, and walked to a place I knew that served meals and let out rooms.First, I had to square things with Linda. "You said you trusted me. There's only one room if we have to stay the night. You trust me that much?"A momentary frown crossed her face, but when I suggested that she might prefer to try find someone driving a car, she took only seconds to declare, "No, I think I trust you.""The devil you know, eh?" I joked, but at the same time, I was wondering why I should be so pleased that she opted to stay with me. God, what a pretty face can do to a man's better instincts."Could I use your phone to try my sister's number?" Linda asked.I handed her the phone, showed how it worked, and watched her tongue show between her lips as she dialled. After a moment, she said, "Sounds engaged." And she handed me the phone to listen. There was a dead line buzzing. I didn't like to tell Linda what that implied. ?I?ve tried a few times from different towns we were in, but," and she shrugged, "always the same."We both dined voraciously on steak, sausage and mushrooms, finishing off with a coffee. "I need to repay you in some way," she said, once again.I held up a hand, "Payment is not necessary." Then I paused as a thought struck me. "There is one thing you can do for me."Immediately her eyes clouded, as she turned her head away, "And that would be?""I've been with you for... what? Six hours, and I know nothing about you. You might be an escaped convict." That brought an awkward chuckle, "Or an axe murderer."A laugh, this time, before she said, "I need the toilet. When I come back I'll tell you what I can." And she shuffled away to the door marked, 'Ladies'.Time ticked by, and I was beginning to wonder if she had made a getaway, when she appeared across the room, and I was transfixed by the change in her. With her dark hair combed out and lightly curled outwards at the shoulder, she would have looked highly alluring if it hadn't been for that obvious bump. But the face, washed bright and shiny, unhindered by make-up was almost child-like."I need some fresh underwear," she said, as she reached our table. A brief query with the owner and we were out and visiting a lady's outfitters, which fortunately, given the pressure of that wind, was just down the street.Our room was neat enough, and I was relieved to find it had twin beds. Linda went to change into the fresh underwear, and then we went down to the lounge where we sat, side by side, at a table in one corner near the window, with two lattes in front of us."Just take your time," I urged her. "Just tell me what you want to."For a moment she looked uncomfortable, her eyes casting around the cosy lounge,?Anything wrong?? I asked.?You?re going to think I?ve been stupid.??Go on,? I said, ?Try me.?At first her voice was low and tentative, but as she progressed it took on a deep hardness, that matched the expressions that crossed her face. Anger filled my head as I listened to what Linda had to say.*o o o O o o o*Maybe I have been stupid. I can?t expect any sympathy, but all I wanted was a taste of the ?good life? We weren?t well-off and my parents struggled to fund my entry into university. At nineteen I was studying journalism and English literature. Then my parents were killed in a car accident, devastated I dropped out. Briefly, grief overrode any thoughts of employment.When I did come out of it, all I could get was clerical work with a firm of publishers, which at least, kept me under the umbrella of the written word.One night I, with a close friend, lashed out on a visit to a high class night club, way beyond our means. That?s where I met, and was overwhelmed by, Barton Franden. Totally captivated by his looks, the cool way he dressed, stylish but subtly casual, I knew I wanted to know him better. Such seductive charm which I was soon to discover was false.When he asked for that first dance, I was overwhelmed, but two more followed. All too good to be true, especially when he drove me home to my flat, gave me a chaste kiss, and arranged to pick me up on the following night. To my innocent mind it was all pure heaven.For three nights, it was like living in paradise for me, as we dined in high class hotels and top restaurants. To my inexperienced eyes he was a tall, handsome, man-about-town with lavish tastes, in food, wine and the hotels he stayed in. I was totally taken by this luxurious life-style and he only spoke loosely about his business, which took him all over the country.So when, after a few days, he asked if I?d like to see his hotel suite, I had no hesitation. Yes, it was a suite, not a just a room, and it was everything I would have expected. Immaculately furnished lounge and dining area, with a bedroom that contained a massive bed.Although hypnotised by the aura around him, I knew what would follow. But where, I asked myself, could there be a better location in which to lose my virginity?On that bed, without too much preamble, Barton stripped me, ogled my naked body for a moment, clutched one breast, and without any attempt at foreplay, he plunged his hardness up into me. The pure agony of losing my virginity in that way had me screaming izmit escort out. Worse was the fact that he filled the condom almost immediately. "Next time will be better," he gasped.I was so blinded by the luxury on offer, that, although hurt and disappointed, I accepted his invitation to give up my job and travel as his companion around the country. Naïve, I surely was, but he was so superficially macho, so handsome, so in control of his whole destiny, it seemed, that I couldn?t resist.My ordinary life was turned around, with access to a quality that I had dreamed of. While Barton followed his business involvement, I was free to shop for elegant clothes, have beauty treatment, sip coffee in elegant cafes, and generally indulge myself.For too long I forced myself to ignore the cruel underbelly of this existence, as step by step it worsened. Barton?s sexual demands were surprisingly limited to every four or five days. He seemed to have a very low sex drive. Just as well since, his promise of it being better next time was wrong as he would plunge his rod fiercely into me, shoot his load, and go to sleep. For a while that?s all it was, painful, frustrating but brief, and my luxury living was such solace.Any attempts to talk about it led to him becoming angry, and comments like, "You want out of it?" So I accepted his functional use of my body.He also ducked my questions about his work. His dark eyes glaring, he would shrug, and say something like, "It wouldn't interest you." I blindly lapped up the affluence of it.When he demanded that I take him in my mouth, I was shocked but I knew to refuse would be dangerous. So I accepted his promise to pull out before he came.But, as before, he did not keep his promise. I was told to swallow, and endured the salty bitter taste as he withdrew. Always though it was quick, and always I was reminding myself that beyond those vile moments lay an easy rich life style.Then a new shocking development came into my life. One night, we were in a lavish hotel in Glasgow, before going out he told me that the client he was bringing back needed me to 'entertain' him. As the threat of his words were sinking in, Barton's eyes were fixed on mine as though confirming the implication. He advised me to tuck myself up, naked in the silken sheets of the bed, and be ready for his return.Accordingly I tucked myself, naked, in the silken sheets, and surprisingly, in spite of my anxiety, I fell asleep. I woke up as I felt the sheets being pulled. Time to 'entertain'.* I kept my back turned as a hand stroked over my hip beforfe feeling for my breast. Not rough hands, and all I could think of was, 'Lie back and remember the good life you're leading.'Those hands caressed over my breasts and between my thighs, in a way I had never experienced with Barton. The intimacy of touch and the pressure of his erection against my hip had me turning onto my back with an unexpected sensation of a moistening between my thighs. Could it be that there was pleasure to be had?But even as the thought occurred he was on top of me and his rod was inside me, but travelling smoothly... So good. Yet even as he ran deep, he grunted and with several jerks of his hips, I knew he had spilled his seed too quickly. Were all men like this? In the gloom I could just make out his sallow face as he slobbered over me. Then, as his limp thing slipped out of me I felt the trickle of fluid on my thigh. He hadn't worn a condom.Within minutes he had muttered a sullen, "Thank you," and was gone. And my life of luxury was intact.*He became the first of several ?clients? I took to my bed. I asked myself if my rich lifestyle was worth such episodes. Did it make me a whore? But I?m ashamed to admit that I accepted the humiliation. And in the subsequent weeks I had three more insubstantial clients, finding little excitement in any of the encountersSix weeks passed, as our travels took us from ports to cities, and I had noticed that Barton had a different car, a new car, practically every two months. Occasionally I overheard his conversations with clients but hardly understood the strange words. His sexual demands seemed more limited. Keeping me for his clients? Maybe, but still, I kept telling myself, I was living the high life, wasn't I?Everything changed though at the end of that six weeks, when I* realised that I had missed two periods. Worried, I visited the hospital while in York. A short examination confirmed what I had feared. I was pregnant. I didn?t need a diary to tell me that this was due to that first stranger.How to tell Barton? So condom conscious, he would know it wasn?t his. Did I want to have the baby? That answer was easy. The likely father had been a bastard, but he was gone. This baby would be mine alone, mine to love, to care for, to hold close to my heart.I wanted this baby more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. What if it did break into my easy living? I would live with that if it happened.Barton would tell me to get rid of it. So, I said nothing. The months passed, with only Barton's frugal demands on my body to cloud the issue. My breasts became just a little tender, and I derived a special thrill to stand naked and sideways to a mirror, and see that subtle bulge develop.More and more, I directed him to my mouth, for his gratification, the three-minute job as I thought of it. Wearing a loose dress seemed to fool him. Fortunately, there had been a long gratifying break from servicing his clients, but I was fearful of the day when I could no longer hide my condition.That day came just last week. Barton told me it was a ?special? client. I knew I was in trouble. This hefty, dark haired man just couldn?t wait to rip away my blouse, and tear at my skirt. My heart was beating madly, as he stepped back to view my swollen abdomen, and I saw the stunned look on his face"Jesus, you're pregnant. He didn't tell me that.""He didn't know," I told him."Hell, I can't. mM wife..." He stopped himself, "Just suck me off, for Christ?s sake." Sill trying to be the tough man but failing.Before I got down, he started rambling about his wife?s pregnancies. His erection had decreased, and he groaned, ?Oh, fuck it.? He pushed me back and hurried out of the room.Next morning, Barton came storming in, "You fucking bitch," he screamed, and I was sure he was going to strike me as his hand reached out. But he pulled back the covers to reveal my naked bare belly.