Stuck Out in The Rain

Stuck Out in the Rain - I : Deluge

© 2025 cv andrews

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A romance - sort of

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It's 7:30 on a November night and it's pouring rain and I was supposed to start driving to L. A. two hours ago when I see the flashers up ahead. They're so weak I not even sure they're on, but then I see the car, which turns out to be a faded old pickup truck. And then I see the woman, standing there by the truck, waving her arms, soaking wet, looking like a drowned rat.

What would you do...?

~ ~ ~

It's after seven Friday "evening" - now night - and I'm already two hours behind where I'd intended to be by now. Earlier this week I shipped a lot of my clothes and sheets and towels and stuff to my friend Richie's in L. A., so now I'm loading the last of my stuff -- books and CDs and vinyl and my stereo system - all the stuff I wasn't going to trust to a shipping company (trust me - after five years with FedEx, I know!) -- into the camper top of my third-hand 2007 Chevy Silverado pickup.

The last things to go in were the old desk lamp that was the very first piece of "furniture" I ever bought for myself, back when I first moved into my college dorm at Hayward, along with a sports bag with the clothes and toiletries and snacks I figured I'd need for however long it would take me to get to L. A.

I couldn't wait to get away from home, so after I graduated high school I enrolled at Cal State-Hayward, mainly because my high school grades were only so-so and Hayward had a rep as an easy school to get into. I really had no idea what I wanted to do so I took a bunch of what I guess you'd call "general education" classes. Then I took a few business courses 'cause I thought that they'd be useful some time. But the idea of "business" never really appealed to me, either.

So after two years I realized I wasn't really suited for college so I looked online and saw that FedEx was looking for workers at it's Richmond distribution center, north of Berkeley, but after two years there I realized that with the crazy cost of living in the Bay Area I'd only managed to save a little more than $800.

Then a guy I'd worked with at Richmond called me. He'd transferred to the Fedex international distribution center in Blaine, Washington, right on the border with Canada. He knew how frustrated I was, making money and never seeming to get ahead, and he said why didn't I transfer up there. He said that the hourly wage was about the same but you could find places outside of Blaine where housing was relatively cheap and I'd probably be able to save a lot more of my paycheck.

I did a little research and decided to do it. I stayed on my friend's couch for a few weeks, but then I saw a classified ad in the local "shopper" newspaper for this guy just outside of Lynden who had this old Airstream trailer. He was out in the middle of nowhere and didn't need a lot of money, plus, he and I hit it off OK so he gave me a pretty decent rate if I paid for my own propane (but he wasn't a fool and made me put up three months' rent as security).

It all worked out pretty good. I was saving a lot on rent and my trailer was only 25 minutes from work. I'd saved up some money, and another guy at work wanted to sell his old Chevy Silverado. It wasn't much to look at - a bunch of bumper scuffs and supermarket parking lot dings and a little bit of rust around the left rear wheel well. But it was in good mechanical shape, and he even threw in the camper top when his wife told him there was no way he was going to store it in their yard.

But after almost three years I realized that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in rural Whatcom County or work for Fedex for the next 30 years. That, plus virtually no romantic life in the three year's I been up here made it a no-brainer to call my old friend Richie in L. A. Culver City, actually. Anyhow, he's got an event lighting company and he says he needs someone he knows and can trust to manage the office so he's free to do the sales and technical stuff.

And that's how I ended up that Friday night on Flynn Road in the pouring rain about two hours later than I'd planned on. I'd just tuned onto River Road, which more-or-less follows the Nooksack River as it winds toward the Pacific Ocean. Except that I'm headed upstream, in the direction of Rt. 529 that'll take me into Bellingham and someplace - hopefully cheap - for the night.

Like you might expect of someplace named "River Road," it twists and turns as it follows the general course of the river, and it was just past one of these turns that I saw the faint blinking red lights. I didn't know if there was road construction there, or even worse, a washout. But when I got closer I could see that they were flashers, coming from the rear end of an old pickup truck - I think I could still read the letters "Dodge" on the tailgate - that even in the dim light I could see was faded to a flat brown color. I slowed down to avoid it, and also to see if there was anyone who needed help or a ride.

And just in time I noticed a person - it looked like a woman - standing next to the truck and waving her arms, kind of a mix between waving in distress and trying to flag me down. Because her flasher lights were getting dimmer even as I was watching, I decided to pull in behind her truck so that any other vehicles on the road in these miserable conditions would see my brighter lights.

I hit my flashers and put the truck in park. The woman rushed up to the passenger side of my truck. and I could see that she was wearing a cheap plastic rain poncho that she was trying to keep pulled over her head to fend off the rain, but it wasn't doing much good and her hair looked to be pretty well soaked. I lowered the window and she stuck her head in.

"My truck just died and I know I've got... well... some gas, so I think it's... dead. Is there any chance you could give me a ride to..."

And then she stopped in mid-sentence, and that's when I got the idea that she really didn't have anyplace to ask me to take her.

But I'm a male, so I know all about cars and trucks 'n' stuff.

"Get in and wait here and I'll see if there's anything I can do."

Sir-Freakin'-Galahad.

So I got out and pulled my poncho up over my head and hustled over to the truck, which I could now see was even older and more dilapidated than I originally thought.

And I did the usual. The keys were still in the ignition. I turned off the lights to cut the drain on the battery and floored the gas pedal once and then tried the starter. And the starter made that pathetic, dying sound that says "I ain't a'gonna start." Under the circumstances I figured that the battery was completely drained - either that the battery itself was too old to hold a charge or else the alternator (or was this thing so old it still had a generator?) was no good and wasn't putting out any current. In either case, it was beyond help tonight.

I turned her flashers back on - for however much good that that was going to do - and went back to my truck and got in.

"Nope - guess you were right - it's dead, at least for now."

She gave me this look, a look that could only be described as defeat."

And then I remembered her original question.

"Sure, I guess I can give you a lift..., and then added, "to somewhere."

But then I remembered - she hadn't been able to tell me anyplace that she needed-wanted-could go. Okay, here's where it gets tricky.

She was the one who said, "Look, I guess I got no place to go. I'm running away from my boyfriend - that's his truck - and I was trying to get as far away as I could. I'm hopin' to get to Oceanside, California - my girlfriend's boyfriend is at Camp Pendleton and she said that if I could make it there that I could live with them 'til I got something going.

"But right now I got nothing. I took some money from my boyfriend's billfold, but only as much as I thought I'd need for gas to get me someplace where I could pick up a job waitressing or cashiering... or something..."

Okay, I'm not liking this situation at all, but there's no way we're going to get that truck running tonight - or ever, probably. And there's no way I can leave her - or anyone - here on the side of the road with that dead truck.

"Tell you what. Do you have any clothes or stuff? Put 'em in my truck and we'll get someplace where we can stay tonight. Then we'll get breakfast in the morning and figure out what you can do then." I wasn't waiting for her answer or opinion, mainly, because there was nothing else she could say or do.

She thought, but only for about a second. Like I said, there wasn't much else she could say or do.

"Yeah, I put all the stuff I could carry in a duffel bag - it's in the front seat, along with an old tote-purse," and she started to get out of my truck.

"No, you stay here and try to get dry - I'll get your stuff from your... from the truck. Are you sure that's all...?"

I scuttled back to the old truck and opened the driver's door, and like she said, there was this big canvas duffle and a smaller tote bag on the passenger side. I grabbed both of them, banged the door closed with my hip, then hustled back to my truck. I handed her the tote and tossed the duffel bag behind the seats.

"Buckle yourself in."

I turned off my flashers, and then, being real careful, I used my left turn signal and eased out onto the highway. After we were out I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her flashers were almost invisible now. I hoped that no one else would hit it in the rain and the dark and get in an accident.

She never looked back.

"Why don't you get that wet poncho off and toss it behind the seats - I'll turn up the heat and the fan and we can both try to dry out."

She unbuckled her seat belt long enough to wiggle her way out of the flimsy sheet of plastic and toss it in back. And when she got it off, I could see that she was pregnant. And not just a "little pregnant" - pregnant enough that it was obvious even in the dim light from the dashboard.

She looked, and she saw that I noticed, but she didn't say anything, and neither did I. Finally I guess she felt that it had been long enough and that she should explain things.

"My name's Lorene." Except she pronounced it like "Low-REEN." "Like I said, I'm trying to get away from my boyfriend - if he ever was that. He was never real gentle with me, but it's gotten even worse since I been knocked up, and especially when he's been drinking with his friends. But tonight was the last straw.

"I don't know why I put up with it these three years... yes, I do know why. But anyway, tonight was the last straw, 'cause tonight when he shoved me I fell on the kitchen floor and the first thing I thought was, 'The baby!' And that's when I realized that I couldn't let things go on like this, so when he took the Bronco to town to go drinking with his asshole buddies I put as much of my stuff as I could into those two bags and took some gas money from what he thought he's hiding from me in his bottom dresser drawer. Then I grabbed the keys for that old P-O-S Dodge and... well, you know the rest."

She seemed exhausted from telling me all this. And then she started crying. And she just cried and cried, and I didn't know what to do, 'til I realized that there's nothing I could do - that her life had sucked, and that there was nothing I could say or do about it.

So I let her cry, until she finally came to a stop on her own. She sniffled a few times.

"I'm sorry - I must be a mess. I am a mess. Sorry."

I tried to be reassuring.

"No need to be sorry. You've had a rough time of it lately - crying's just natural."

Where did that come from? My relationship skills with women are close to zilch. And I've got absolutely zero experience providing any kind of comfort to "distraught" women. But somehow it seemed like the right thing to say then.

She looked at me and smiled. And that's the first time I got a real look at her face.

And I don't want to be mean or cruel or anything, but she was kind of, well,... homely. Her face was - I'm not real good at describing faces, but her face was kind of... "long" is the only way I can describe it, and maybe a little bit... narrow? Her complexion was pale, or at least that's how it looked in the light from the dashboard. And there were dark rings around her eyes, but I don't know if that was due to her pale skin or simply stress and lack of good sleep, which from the way she described her life would certainly be understandable.

Also, she had a little bit of an overbite, but the more I looked, the more it seemed to give a kind of an innocent, endearing quality to her.

So,... not a beauty.

And certainly not a pregnant beauty.

And that's when I realized.

"I'm Paul."

"Thanks, Paul."

And the way she said it - 'Thanks, Paul' - it wasn't like a... formality, like the kind of response you're supposed to give - it was more like there was real gratitude in her voice.

That's when I realized that the rain, which had been coming down pretty steady, was now a downpour and it was probably unsafe to keep driving. Then out of the blue - or out of the blackness - I saw the flickering red neon letters saying ". acan. y" I hit my signal and turned into the parking lot and heard the gravel crunch under my tires.

I didn't even notice the name of the place but the guy must have heard my truck because as soon as we turned in the light went on the cabin with the lighted "Office" sign in the window. I pulled up as close as I could get so the door of my truck was right opposite the office door.

"You wait here - no need for you to get any more wet."

I went in and told the older man behind the counter that there were two of us and we'd be staying just the one night. I saw him look toward the window, and I could see that where I'd parked, the lights in the parking lot allowed him to see Lorene sitting in the truck. Well enough that he could probably see that she was pregnant.

"I'll put you in number 5 - that should still have plenty of hot water for your wife."

I smiled and said thanks, then took the key with the big wooden fob, got in the truck, and we drove the 50 yards to the cabin with the "5" sign by the door.

"Wait here." I ran around to the back and opened the camper top and pulled my sports bag out, then slammed the top shut. I rushed to unlock the door, tossed my bag inside, then went back and opened... Lorene's... door. "You go on in - I'll bring your stuff."

I checked out the bathroom. It looked pretty decent, plus it had what I was hoping for - a bar of a reasonably nice bath soap, plus little hotel-sized bottles of what looked like decent shampoo and conditioner - Vidal Sassoon, of all things. I turned on the hot water in the sink full blast and in about 60 seconds I was rewarded with a steady flow of hot water.

I came out of the bathroom. "You go first. I'll...," and saw that she was already taking off the heavy cable knit sweater she'd had on under her plastic rain poncho. That left her standing there in her straining brassiere, struggling to wiggle out of her wet, clinging jeans.

And she wasn't being the least bit modest about it. And under the circumstances, maybe she was right. I mean, we're pretty much stranded here in this small cabin. She voluntarily got in my truck, soaking wet, she has no money, and for the time being no place to go.

No, I guess she's pretty much accepted the reality that she and I are sharing a small motel room together on a stormy evening, and that for tonight maybe privacy and proprieties are pretty much out the window.

She finally got out of her soggy jeans and draped them over one of the two chrome dinette chairs and moved it next to the baseboard radiator. Then she unhooked her bra and hung it over the other chair.

And that left her standing there in her pale pink panties - and large, pale breasts, topped with large reddish-brown aureolas tipped with swollen darker-chocolate nipples. As large as her breasts were, there was no sag to them-- still the breasts of a young girl - or young woman, I guess..

Those breasts looked even larger because of something I hadn't been able to see when she was still bundled up against the rain. She was slim. Really slim. Almost skinny. Not quite, I guess, because her ribs didn't show and her legs were thin but but they were nicely proportioned and her shoulder blades and collar bones didn't protrude.

Plus, there was a nice curve in the rear of her pink panties.

But, still - she's really slim, and her breasts looked really large on her slender frame.

She saw me looking - staring.

"The nipples are from the pregnancy. Most of the rest I had already."

"Ohh-kay..." Then I got myself together. "You go ahead. Take as long as you want - you need to get warm." Then I remembered.

"Oh, yeah - there's shampoo and conditioner, and there's a hair dryer in the basket on the toilet tank."

She went in the bathroom and closed the door, but not all the way, and I started getting out of my own wet clothes. I was able to hang the shirt I was wearing in the closet. I looked around for places to drape or hang my jeans - only the lower legs were actually wet - and ended up hanging my poncho and ball cap on door knobs.

Then, standing in my briefs and T-shirt, I dug into my sports duffel and pulled out clean underwear. Then I had another thought. I dug my hand in again and pulled out a large green Seahawks jersey that I thought Lorene could wear tonight.

I realized that I was hungry and Lorene probably was, too. I found the granola bars and the two bottles of chocolate PowRmilk I'd packed for snacks. I took another look outside. The storm was even worse than before. I decided that this was going to have to be tonight's dinner for the two of us.

The water stopped, followed by the sound of the shower curtain being pulled aside.

"Paul? Could you please give me my tote bag? Thank you." Must have something she needs, I guess. I grabbed the big canvas tote and took it over to the bathroom. As I was handing it to her through the door I noticed that on the side it had a faded blue and white image of a sailboat heeling over in the wind. I could barely read the faded script - "Lake Chelan."

I heard the hair dryer and was surprised how long she was taking, but then I figured that she probably has a lot more hair than I do, and besides, the warm air probably felt good after what she's been through tonight.

Then I remembered the jersey. I stuck my arm through the partway-open door.

"Here... Lorene... you might want to put this on - it's kinda cool out here."

A hand reached out and took the jersey. I heard some rustling, and then the bathroom door opened and Lorene, barefoot, stepped out.

And, no, I didn't do some kind of theatrical double-take. But she did look very different. First, her hair, which was soaking wet and matted and caused her to look like a "drowned rat" when I first saw her was now freshly washed and and blown dry. And what I now could see was that she had a full head of long, kind-of kinky ginger-colored hair, or maybe it was what you'd call "chestnut." It looked nice with my green satin jersey. In fact, it looked real nice.

Also, it might have been my imagination but the dark circles that were around her eyes didn't seem quite as dark. In fact, if you didn't look too hard she was actually kind of pretty.

But mainly, she didn't have that defeated look she had when she realized that her old truck was dead and she got into mine.

"You use the shower - I think I left enough hot water for you." Then she dug around in her tote bag and pulled out a big comb and began combing the remaining kinks out of reddish hair.

I grabbed the clean underwear I'd pulled from my sports bag and went into the bathroom. I stood under the shower longer than I normally would, not because I needed to wash so much as I needed to warm myself up.

Also, maybe to think about what would happen after I came out of the bathroom... and later tonight.

I put on my fresh T-shirt and shorts and went out into the room, where I found Lorene setting out the granola bars and PowRmilk.

"While you were in the bathroom I thought I'd set out dinner."

I guess she's adjusted to the realities of the - our - situation tonight.

I remembered that I had some KitKats in my jacket pocket, so I got those out and set them on the table, too.

Then I realized it was still cold in the room. When I packed the sports duffel for this trip I never expected that I'd need a robe, but - here we are. I dug through the duffel and found my red Kansas City Chiefs jersey (don't know where I got that one), a little longer than the Seahawks jersey Lorene was wearing. I put it on.

So like this, in our - my - team jerseys, we sat at that little table and ate our granola bars and KitKats and washed them down with PowRmilk. Didn't say much - we were both physically tired, although I guess we were a bit relaxed after our showers. But also. feeling the awkwardness of our situation - and knowing that we'd soon be sharing the one standard "double" bed in the room.

We cleared the table, by which I mean we tossed the snack wrappers into the trash basket. But we decided that instead of tossing the plastic PowRmilk containers into the little blue "Recycle" basket we'd save them to use as beside water bottles. I turned on the small TV and we were able to get one channel decently, a local Bellingham station, and the news was on. We were most interested in the weather, of course. Not great. Many roads and underpasses flooded, with the rain probably continuing well into tomorrow.

We brushed our teeth - Lorena had managed to grab her toothbrush and half a tube of toothpaste before fleeing her home - former home, I guess it is now. So we brushed and shared the one glass that was in the bathroom - we used opposite sides of the glass - and rinsed and spit and wiped our lips on the two small hand towels on the rod. I left the light on and closed the door most but not all of the way so we could still find our way in the dark.

And that's when the "reality of our situation" got... real.

She didn't make a "thing" of it - just went to one side of the bed and turned down the spread and the covers and slid in, and it was like she was waiting... expecting... me to do the same.

Like I said - "our reality." And the reality was, she's a woman, all alone, with no money and no immediate place to go, and she'd gotten in a truck with a stranger, a guy, and she knew the score. She knew the rules that apply in a situation like this. In the '70s the expression was "Gas, grass, or ass." She didn't have any money for gas, and I don't particularly like weed, even if she had any. So,... she knew what expectations were in a "situation like this."

The thing was, she didn't seem to... resent it. Seemed to accept it, like it was simply a matter of fact, with nothing about it to discuss or argue. Like maybe she was resigned to it - that I seem like a decent guy and that maybe I won't abuse her.

Like I said, she seemed to be waiting. So jersey still on, I slipped into bed. With her.

And she didn't move. Didn't try to snuggle against me, didn't try to move away from me. Just... waited.

I had to do it. I moved in closer to her, and I put my hand on her hip - on her flank. And left it there.

She didn't move away, didn't even flinch when I first touched her.

Like I said - I had to do it.

One, my cock hasn't been in anything softer than my right hand in a very long time.

But the other thing was, how would she feel if I didn't at least try do something?

I mean, she might ultimately be relieved - that she wasn't going to have to "put out" just in order to have a roof over her head on a stormy night.

But on the other hand, how would she feel - how would you feel - if you were lying there in bed with a guy, and he didn't make a move to touch you?

You'd feel like crap - that's how you'd feel. Yes, you might feel relieved. But at the same time you'd feel offended, like "What's wrong with me? Am I some kind of a leper," at least to this guy?

And no, this wasn't some cheesy rationalization for forcing myself on a helpless woman. I knew that I'd feel really guilty if I ignored her, that I had rejected her, for whatever reason.

After a few seconds I began sliding my hand up and down her leg, and I was struck by the feel of her skin. It was soft, and smooth, and despite how slim she was I felt flesh, not bone, underneath my fingers, and I took the time to appreciate how... lovely it was - she was.

And it might have been my imagination, but it almost felt like... like she relaxed - like, "Okay, it's started - no more uncertainty, no more 'what if,' no more 'maybe ...'"

I slid my hand up, to the hem of her jersey, and I lifted...

And that's when I discovered that she hadn't put on any panties under the jersey. Perhaps she did want sex tonight. Or perhaps her thinking was, "Why bother - they're going to come off in a few minutes anyway." In any case, it signaled she was anticipating that we'd be having sex this evening.

I lifted the jersey away and began running my hand over her hip, and then downward, to between her legs.

And of course, there was her pregnant belly there. Obviously, this was a totally new experience for me. I'd never even thought about sex with a pregnant woman - or anything with a pregnant woman, for that matter.

Yet here I am, in bed with this woman named Lorene, and she's very pregnant, and my inexperienced hand is touching the bottom of her very pregnant belly. And it's okay. But then my hand needed to travel farther, to where her slim thighs came together, and to run my fingers through the soft, curly hair they found there...

And I thought - I wonder if her hair... here... is like the curly chestnut brown crop on her head?

My fingers worked their way down until they found the crease there, and I slipped a finger between them. I paused for a moment, to give her time to react to my intrusion, or to adjust - or protest - or whatever.

She did none of those things. In fact, I think she kind of moved, like... like she enjoyed the way I was touching her. And I noticed that despite our "less-than-romantic" circumstances, that she wasn't dry. I'm not going to tell you that she was creaming all over the place, eagerly awaiting the strong cock of this handsome stud stranger. But she was a little slick, like maybe, in spite of the circumstances, that she was "in the mood" - or could get that way.

And of course, the feel of her pussy and the wetness I found there, and her body touching mine, I was getting hard, and there was no doubt that despite the situation my body was eager to have sex with her.

And now seemed to be the time. My cock, which had found its way into the crease between her slim buttocks, was hard. Like I said - it's been a long time - and she was wet enough. And if she wasn't exactly eager, she was at least willing.

I shifted into a position where I thought I'd be at the right angle to enter that pussy that I was fingering. I think she might even have moved a little, to help.

And I pushed upward. And for the first time in... in a long time, the tip of my cock touched the pussy of a warm, soft woman.

And I just froze for a moment.

Lorene didn't do anything, and I don't know what she was thinking: Is something wrong? Did he change his mind - is there something wrong with me? Is there something wrong with him...?

But, no, I think I was just to stunned by the unfamiliarity of my current situation that I kind of lost track of what to do next. But then instinct and memory kicked in, and I pressed, and I felt the crown of my cock slipping into the slick tissues. And it was that same amazing sensation that I remembered - barely - from previous times, previous girls...

And then I stopped.

"Do we need to... shouldn't we...?"

And her answer:

"I think at this point we don't need to worry about getting pregnant, do we...?

And of course I felt so stupid right then. But the way she said it - I could almost hear the smile in her voice when she said that, and she didn't make it sound sarcastic - instead there was this kind of gratitude in her voice, like "... but thank you for thinking about it."

So all of a sudden, after her words I felt a whole lot more... reassured, I guess you could say - about... everything. I started pressing my hips up again, into her, and my cock slid in pretty easily, and of course I wondered if that was because she was pregnant, or if that's just the way she was - or if she's just totally relaxed, like "Maybe I can have sex and not have to think whether I'm going to be beaten up or not." I hoped that things hadn't really been that bad for her, but...

So I fucked in and out of her, pretty standard stuff, and after a while she even started to move with me, into a pretty good rhythm, and she started making little noises, and I won't try to describe them but they seemed like pleasure sounds. So I kept stroking in and out, not pounding or hammering into her in any way - just the skin of my cock feeling the slight squeeze of the warm slickness inside her cunt. And because I'm not a total pig I kept fingering her pussy - at least that part of her pussy that wasn't filled by my cock - and her clit, which had become a lot more swollen that it was when I first touched her there...

And then she came. She made this little gasp, and she stiffened, and the way her body did it, I was afraid I was going to slip out of her before... well, you know before what.

But also, her cumming made me focus on how I was feeling.

And how I was feeling was... I was almost about to cum...

And that's when she - Lorene - reached her arm back over her shoulder and put her hand softly on my hair, and that's the way I came - one arm around her and one hand still feeling the slickness of her pussy and her arm back over me, gently holding my head.

~ ~ ~

And I think both of use wouldn't have minded doing it again. But I think both of us were so tired, physically and emotionally, that we proceeded straight to sleep. Except I think that while we were lying there like that, with me spooned around her, I might have kissed the soft skin of her back. And she might have made a little "Mmmm..." sound and moved a little when I did it.

During the night I lifted my arm that had been around her, cradling one of her soft breasts, and turned over onto my other side. And sometime after that she snuggled up against me so we were lying back-to-back against each other. And then I felt her roll over onto her side and snuggle in against me and put her arm over me. And I can't remember a thing after that, I slept so soundly.

At some point I fell the weight in the bed shift, and in the dim light of the rainy Washington morning I looked to see Lorene's backside as she headed into the bathroom and closed bathroom door, but not all the way, and I heard the sounds of peeing and the the toilet paper roll and then the toilet flush, and then the door opened and she came back out, and I was wondering if she'd hurry up and dress, wanting to get out of here as fast as possible, maybe regretting what we - she - did last night and wanting to get away from that memory as soon as possible...

She came back over to the bed and lifted the covers and slipped in, and I thought, "No regrets, at least."

So we lay there for a while, each knowing the other was awake, and I don't think either of us would have minded a replay of what we did last night. Except I also think that neither of us wanted anything to happen that might imply something more, like something continuing, or any kind of "relationship." In fact, we were careful not to accidentally touch each other, except for once Lorene's hand brushed my arm when she rolled over, but then she quickly apologized. It was like that.

I looked at my phone and saw that it was already 8:10. We needed to get going.

"How should we do this?"

"I've already been to the bathroom so why don't you go first."

So I got out of bed and walked barefoot to the bathroom, in what I hoped was a "matter of fact" way, even though my jersey left my privates and half my butt exposed. I wondered if Lorene was looking. Half of me was hoping she wasn't, but the other half of me was hoping that she was.

I went into the bathroom, and like she had done, I closed the door but left it open part-way while I peed and washed up. I tried to be quick about it because I didn't know how much time Lorene would need. Women.

I walked back into the room, and this way there was no way to "finesse" it, and if she wanted to look at my junk, well, there it was. I tried to avoid even noticing.

She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I thought about looking away but then decided that that would be too obvious and instead just looked "in her direction." My 'Hawks jersey was long enough that it came down to mid-thigh on her, but like last night, I noticed how pretty her legs were for such a thin girl - woman.

I felt our clothes to see if they'd dried out enough for us to wear today, and they had. I got a fresh pair of Jockeys and some crew socks from my sports bag, then got yesterday's shirt from the closet and slipped on my jeans, which were completely dry. I thought to feel Lorene's jeans, and they seemed dry, too.

I didn't want to seem like a pervert, but I decided to check her bra, too. And, yes, I was tempted to check the size but decided that would be tacky, or juvenile, or... Anyhow, I managed to stifle my curiosity and confine myself to my original thought and just check to see if it was dry. And it was, even at the thickest seams, and it was still a little bit warm from the radiator. And for some reason I got this good feeling, that Lorene would have a nice warm brassiere to slip into on this cold, damp morning.

About then Lorene came out of the bathroom and stopped, like, "Okay, what do I do now?" But then she just shrugged, peeled my Jersey off over he head, and unselfconsciously walked over to her duffel bag and proceeded to pull out a clean T-shirt and a fresh pair of panties and start dressing.

"Your jeans are dry - I checked."

"Thanks.," then added, "That's a piece of good news to start the day."

She struggled getting her straining bra on over her at least what appeared to me to be enormous breasts, and I got this urge to go over and help her with it - something I never did with any of the (few) women I've been with.

We'd eaten our only snacks for "dinner" last night and decided that the first thing we needed to do was get some food in our stomachs. We packed up our toiletry stuff and the few things we'd' unpacked, and I put them in my truck and drove back to the office. When I went inside to return the big wooden key fob I asked the man behind the desk - not the older guy from last night, more like a kid - if there was a place nearby where we could get breakfast and he said there was a Denny's on this road just after you entered Bellingham.

We didn't say anything during the drive, but after about eight minutes we saw the familiar sign and turned into their parking lot. Denny's was probably a good choice for us - plenty of parking, large menu, and most importantly right now, a lot of food for not too much money.

Which was important, because I hadn't set out on this trip expecting to be eating much, or in restaurants. After breakfast I'd need to find an ATM.

I parked and we headed in. The breakfast crowd was thinning out and the waitress-hostess pointed us to a booth that had just opened up. Hungry but not sure how much we could eat, we decided to share one of their "Grand Slam" breakfasts. Then we sat silently, drinking our OK coffee until Lorene said, "Paul, I hate to ask you for another favor but... like I told you, my phone's dead - could I possibly use yours to call my girlfriend in California and let her know..."

She kind of stalled out there, and I realized - she really didn't have much specific information to tell her friend.

"Sure." I got my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it and handed it to her.

"I'll just go over there...," nodding toward the restrooms, "so you don't just have to sit and listen to me talk." She wriggled her pregnant self out of the booth and went over to the corridor that led to the restrooms and pressed some numbers, and it looked like no one was going to answer but then her face seemed to perk up and she started talking. She talked for about five minutes and then ended the call. Then she stood there for half a minute, like she was thinking about something, almost like she was going over her possibilities, maybe.

Instead of coming back to our booth she stopped one of the waitresses and asked her something. The waitress turned and nodded toward another woman. Lorene walked over to the woman and they talked for a few minutes before I could see her say the words, "Thank you," and came back to our booth and wriggled her way in, and I was thinking that taking the booth may not have been the most "practical" choice, considering.

As soon as she was settled our food came. Turns out one pancake, one egg, one sausage, and some hash browns for each of us wasn't enough so we ordered another Slam, this time with french toast instead of pancakes and bacon instead of sausages. And all the time we were eating I was wondering, "What now."

The waitress cleared our dishes and refilled our coffees, and that's when Lorene decided to tell me "what."

"Thanks for letting me use your phone. I talked to my friend Glynnis in California and told her what my situation is and she said that I shouldn't worry - that once I get to Oceanside I can stay with them as long as I needed. Also, I just talked with the morning manager here and she said they need waitresses, so I can work here until I can save enough money to get to Oceanside.

"So thank you for what you've done for me - you've been a life-saver...," and she paused, "Maybe literally. But anyhow, Paul..."

As soon as I heard what she was planning to do I thought, "No - not a good idea."

"Lorene, I don't think that's a real good idea. This place is not that far from... from where you started, and...," and I realized I didn't know the name of the boyfriend she was running away from, "The guy you're trying to get away from."

"Jake."

"Okay, yeah, Jake. He'll probably know that you'll need money and probably get a job like cashier or waitress - at a place like this, and you're not that far away. Is he the kind of guy who would actually come after you - find you and try to take you come back?"

The look on her face suggested that she hadn't thought about this, that her main concern had been how she'd pay for the trip to California and never gave any real thought to the fact that... Jake... might actually try to track her down and drag her back with him. As she processed these thoughts I could see her expression sag.

Then I said what I had been thinking about since I saw her on the phone with her friend.

"Look... Lorene, I have to drive to Los Angeles anyway. Carrying you and your... luggage... isn't going to take that much more gas, and when we get to Los Angeles I'm sure there's buses to San Diego that'll get you to Oceanside - I'm sure it's only two or three hours more.

"But bottom line, you can't stay here." I don't think I've ever used the words "bottom line" that way before.

She looked like she wanted to argue with me, protest, insist that I'd already been so nice and that she couldn't ask any more from me or be any more of a burden to me than she already had...

But then the reality of her situation hit her.

"I guess I hadn't thought about all of that, about Jake maybe... Okay, I'll go with you." Then she thought. "But if I'm any kind of a burden, or if you just, maybe, like you regret asking me to come, let me know - promise?"

While I was paying the check and going back to leave the tip on our table Lorene went over to the manager lady and told her that she wouldn't be able to work after all and thanked her. We went out the the car and pulled out onto the road and started following the signs to I-5.

On the way Lorene spotted a small cell phone repair and accessories store, and I remembered that when Lorene had left in so much of a hurry that she left her phone charger plugged into the wall. I found a place to park and we went in and she found a cheapo charger that would work with her two-generations-old Motorola phone. She dug her billfold out of her tote bag, and I could see that after she paid the cashier for the charger there weren't a whole lot bills left in that billfold.

Walking back to the truck I spotted a Seafirst ATM. I have enough money, but like I said, I'd gotten only enough cash for gas and snacks for myself, and our Denny's breakfast with tax and tip had already used more than $30 of that cash. I was going to get $200 but then thought, 'Better be safe" and added an extra hundred.

But when I looked at the time on the ATM screen I was surprised to see that it was already 10:20. When I set out last night I'd been planning on getting to southern Oregon, maybe even to California, tonight. But with my late start, and then the terrible rain, and then... Lorene. And now the late start this morning. No, not gonna make California tonight. But just before we got to the truck Lorene spotted a little neighborhood-type grocery store.

"Paul, can I ask a big favor of you. When I grabbed stuff to throw into my duffel bag I forget to take my shampoo. Can we look in this store and see if they have something I can use?"

Well, I didn't think it was that big of a favor, but I told her yes. We went in and immediately found their modest selection of toiletries. Lorene scanned the six or eight kinds of shampoo-conditioners they had, and her face practically lit up when she apparently found just the brand she was looking for. I guess when you have hair like Lorene's, shampoo's a pretty important thing.

We paid and got in my truck, and a few more streets and we were on I-5 headed south, toward Seattle - and LA. I already had a USB charger adapter in the truck's cigarette lighter socket, and the first thing Lorene did was plug her new charger into it and start charging her phone battery. First things first.

We didn't say much. I think both of us were still a bit dazed by everything that's happened - for both of us - in the last 15 hours. And now she's pretty much committed herself to hitching a ride with a guy she doesn't know for however-many-nights-it-takes to get to... her friends, and to whatever happens after that.

And I've pretty much committed myself to taking this woman - this pregnant woman - this pregnant woman that I didn't even know existed and who's on the run from an abusive guy. And to feeding her and housing her for... for however long it takes to get to... wherever.

And I'm wondering, and she's probably wondering, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

~ ~ ~

Stuck Out in the Rain - II : Astoria

Like I said, we're driving south on I-5 toward Seattle, and neither of us had much to say. Thinking, I guess.

Finally I said, "Want to listen to something? Why don't you turn on the radio and try to find something."

Lorene leaned over and turned on the radio - the guy I bought the truck from had installed a pretty good sound system a few years before I bought it - and played with the buttons 'til she found something that sounded like what I guess you'd call "soft jazz," like Kenny G and stuff. Not what I would normally want to listen to, but I didn't hate it, either.

More importantly, it filled the gap in our non-conversation and helped the miles go by, so that in less than an hour we were past Everett, almost to the point where we - meaning I - needed to decide whether to grind through Seattle on I-5 or take the 405 through Bellevue and Renton, which could be just as hectic. We - I - decided that since we weren't going to get too far today anyway, that it would be simpler just to stay on 5 and deal with whatever we found.

We did, and it wasn't as terrible as it could have been, and in not too long we were past SeaTac and all the Tacoma exits. And it was after we'd passed through Olympia that she opened up.

"I guess you're wondering how I got myself into this situation, huh?"

I didn't want her to feel pressured, like she had to tell me about her life, maybe like she owed me because I was doing her a favor. I started to tell her that, but she said that I was entitled to know, and also, that she thought she just needed the chance to tell someone - IF it was alright with me.

"A lot of it's because of these." She put her hands on her chest and lifted her heavy breasts.

"You've seen me, so you know that I was always the skinny girl with the crazy hair, and I was never pretty." I tried to stop her, to say that wasn't true, but then realized - that would just be patronizing her - treating her like the homely little girl she was trying to get away from being.

"But then when these things started to happen," and she gave her breasts another lift-nudge. "And, yeah, I know - having big jugs is supposed to be special for a girl and give her lots of advantages. Well, for me they been a mixed blessing - mostly trouble.

First, girls all made fun of me, treated me like a freak, even though I'm pretty sure most of them would have given a couple fingers to have boobs like mine. But all the boys that wouldn't have given me the time of day before were now all hangin' around, askin' to go out with me, or inviting me into a garage or into their basements when their folks weren't home.

"And to be honest, I liked it - liked the attention. It was all so new to me, and I liked that now I was popular and that boys liked me. And, yeah, for a while I would go into those garages or basements and let the boys touch me. And then one time I got this text saying to come over to this boy's house. 'Cept when I got there, the boy wasn't home - turns out he was visiting his aunt somewhere - but his father was there, and it turns out he was the one who sent the text using his son's phone. I got out of there as quick as I could 'cause I knew that getting involved with someone's dad could be big trouble."

She stopped, like this was the point where the "storyteller" would light up or take a drag on a cigarette, except that Lorene didn't smoke, or at least, I hadn't seen any sign of it. Also, she waited, like she wanted to see if I was listening, or how I felt about what she was telling me, or if I wanted her to stop telling me. Since I didn't say anything or make a move, she went on.

"Then I met Jake - he picked me up, actually. I was working check-out at Safeway and I saw him looking at me, and he wasn't being too obvious that he was looking at my tits, and when people thinned out he got in my lane, and he was nice and had a nice smile, and he asked me if I'd have coffee or an ice cream with him when my shift ended - he didn't even ask when that was.

"I put him off a couple of times, but then one time when I really didn't want to go home and face my leering stepdad and my bitching mother I told him yeah. So we started dating, and on the second date we fucked, and enough 'dates' and I got knocked up. And I'm pretty sure you can guess how the rest of the story goes. Momma called me a slut and my step-dad called me a whore - but I think he was just jealous it wasn't him that knocked me up - and they told me to go live with my pimp.

"So I moved in with Jake into his trailer, and for the first few weeks he was nice - sweet, even. But then after that he got mean and started blaming me for all kinds of stuff, starting with the doctor visits, 'til - well, like I told you, I was afraid he'd do something that'd hurt the baby.

"And that's how come you found me standing there in the pouring rain next to his broken down old truck."

And she just sat there, I guess exhausted from the emotional strain of telling her own story. And waiting.

I have to admit - I felt kind of exhausted myself. Her story, what she told me, was about like I would have expected. Still, it was tough to hear, and especially from a girl who struck me as a perfectly nice person, one who shouldn't have had to experience what she apparently had. I wanted to say something "optimistic" but then figured that anything like that would just sound condescending, trying to deny the miserable life she's experienced so far.

Instead, I said, "That sounds tough - I'm sorry it's been like that for you. But now you're out of that, at least for the time being, and you've got your friend in California...," and ran out of reassuring things to say so I just shut up.

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening. I think I needed that - needed to get it out, for a long, long time. So thanks for being here and listening to my sob story."

I don't know what prompted me, but I reached over and put my hand her thigh - reassuringly, I hoped. She rewarded my pat with a smile, and for just that brief instant she looked pretty, almost.

We didn't talk for a while.

And one of the things we didn't talk about was what happened at our motel cottage last night. Nothing about whether it was good - for either of us. Or whether it was going to happen again. Or whether it was never going to happen again. Or was it expected because I was being "nice" to her and doing her a favor by buying her meals and driving her 1400 miles?

Nothing.

A freeway sign indicated that the exit for Mt. Saint Helens was 2-1/2 miles ahead. We looked at each other, but neither of us showed any indication of being interested so we drove on...

Until 20 minutes later we started seeing signs for Astoria.

And Lorene lit up.

"Astoria! That's where they filmed that movie - you know the one - that movie - 'Kindergarten Cop,' the one with Arnold Schwarzenegger as the cop?"

Yeah, I vaguely remembered seeing the movie but I had no idea that it had been filmed in Astoria, Oregon - or even that there was an "Astoria, Oregon," for that matter.

"Yeah, I think I remember that."

"Well - can we go there!"

Huh? I've volunteered to give her a free ride to her friend's, 1400 miles away, and now she's asking me to make a detour so we can see some town where some 30-year-old film was made? WTF?

And then I looked at her. And, really - her face was lit up like it was Christmas morning and there was a shiny new bike under the tree.

I looked at the GPS and it showed that, yes, going to Astoria was out of the way. But it also showed that once we were there we could continue driving south down the Oregon coast, which to be honest, looked a whole lot more interesting than grinding straight down I-5 another 300 miles.

And then there was the way Lorene looked. The very thought that we were even going to be near Astoria seemed to make her happier than anything that's happened in the last 17 hours.

"Sure, I guess we can go to Astoria." I looked at the time on the GPS. "In fact, we can probably find a place to stay there for the night and get an early start tomorrow morning. That sound OK to you?"

Her big smile was my answer.

So we left I-5 at a place named Industrial Way and took the bridge across the Columbia River and headed west, and in another hour we saw the Astoria city limit sign.

Okay, we're in Astoria. Now what?

"Look, Paul!" Lorene's holding up her freshly-charged phone so I could look at something I can't safely look at when I'm driving, like now.

"They got a whole Wikipedia entry on the movie - Kindergarten Cop. And it tells all the locations in Astoria where they shot the film! Can we stop and see some of them?" I could almost hear the "Gee, Dad - can we, can we?" in her voice.

What am I gonna say?

"Sure. Let's see how many of them we can find, OK?"

The first "location" listed in the Wikipedia article was the school they used for the school scenes.

"Look - there it is - I recognize it from the movie!" There was actual glee in her voice.

Turns out, the school they used, "Astor Elementary School," was just off the main road we were on coming into town.

"Let's look!"

Well, to me it looked pretty much like any other 1920's public school building, but I made a couple turns into the parking lot and we sat in the truck and... looked. I wasn't raining anywhere close to what it'd been last night when Lorene and I were forced to "seek refuge from the storm," it's still November in the Pacific Northwest and it was drizzling and chilly, and sitting in the truck with the nice warm heater seemed to me like the best way to "see" the Kindergarten Cop school. Lorene wanted to see if we could go in and see the halls and classrooms where they shot the movie, but with school security being the way it is these days we figured there was no way they'd let us so we stayed in the truck - with the heater.

We drove down Commercial Street, which I guess shows up in a lot of the scenes of the town. And it looked like any other small city main street. Wikipedia said that the "Seafare Restaurant" was on Industry Street so we drove there, but it turns out that "Industry Street" is - surprise! - an industrial area, and Lorene didn't see anything that looked like the popular diner in the movie.

The house where the teacher - "Ah-nold's" love interest in the story - and her son lived is kind of a local attraction, and we were able to find it from the Wikipedia entry and GPS - a big frame house up on a high terrace and Lorene said we just had to stop. So we got out and walked around. There was another couple there, looking around like we were, I guess. Lorene took out her phone and made me take a picture of her with the house in the background.

Then out of the blue I got this notion that I should have a picture of this woman - Lorene - and that if I was going to have a picture of her then it should be at a time when she's happy. So I got out my phone and took a picture of her, looking happy. And then I took one more.

Then we switched, and I stood where she'd been and she took pictures, one with her phone and one with mine.

Then the other couple that was looking around walked over and asked us if we'd take a picture of them in front of the house. Then they surprised us by asking if they could take our picture. I hesitated for a second but Lorene blurted out, "Sure!" and gave them her phone, and we stood next to each other, and the woman said, "Closer," so I moved closer, right next to Lorene. And then, for some reason, I put my arm around her waist.

"That was great - now do you want one with your other phone?" and Lorene looked at me, and I knew I had to say yes. But I also knew - I would've said yes anyway.

We thanked them and we all headed for our cars. It was now after 4:00 and we realized that we were hungry. But maybe first we should find a place to stay for then night. The other couple hadn't driven away yet, and since they looked like tourists I went over and asked them if they knew of a place - an inexpensive place - to stay. The said that they'd just checked out of a place a few blocks away that had a nice room over their garage that wasn't too expensive.

I got directions from them and then drove the three blocks to where they said it was. There was no sign, only the street number. We rang the bell, and I hoped that with Lorene pregnant and all that they might give us a break on the price. The lady who answered the door said that, yes, the room was available and that it would be $75 for the one night. But then an older man, seemed like her husband, appeared behind her. I could see his eyes drop down to Lorene's enlarged belly and he said, "Y'know, Millie, it's late and I don't see a lot more people coming by today, so how would $50 be for you two?"

He went and got the key and held it out to me. "Breakfast's at 8:30 - kitchen door's 'round back," and pointed - "Bacon 'n' eggs OK?"

As we were turning to go down the porch steps and back to the truck I heard him say, "Those kids are gonna be needin' all the money they can pretty soon."

We took our stuff - same as last night - my sports bag, her duffle bag and tote - upstairs and checked out the room. But then we decided that we were both really hungry so we went back down to the truck. We remembered that we saw several restaurants along Commercial Street when we were first driving in so we drove back there and parked near several of our restaurant prospects.

The first two places we looked in were not real expensive, but we were still hoping to find some place cheaper. Then we noticed a diner a half block down a side street. Still more expensive than we were hoping for but cheaper than the other ones we looked at.

We shared a large bowl of smoked salmon chowder (really good!) and an order of fish tacos (good, but not great) and coffee - not so much because we wanted coffee but because they would keep giving us refills for no extra charge.

So we sat there for a while, drinking our coffees, not talking much. And like in the truck, what we didn't talk about was last night. And about tonight. And what... how things will be when we get back to our room. What's expected? What's appropriate - and not? And by whom?

We looked at each other, and it looked like we agreed that it was time to leave. There was no sales tax on the food so I left a little larger tip for the older waitress who kept our coffee mugs filled. We put on our coats and stepped out into the drizzle, and while we were walking back to my truck Lorene put her arm around my waist. I wasn't expecting anything like that, but then I looked down at Lorene and got the feeling that she'd surprised herself. I opened the door for her, then got in and we drove back to the room.

Our room, I guess.

I locked the truck and we walked up the stairs. I unlocked the door and opened it for Lorene. I followed her in and turned and locked the door.

And the very first thing she did when I turned around was to kiss me. Not a long or sexy, but not just a "peck," either. Just a nice, soft "thank you" kiss, I guess.

"On my eighth birthday my parents saved up the money and surprised me with this brand new bicycle that I had wanted so badly - it was a Disney 'Frozen' bike with Princess Elsa on it."

She paused, to make sure that I was listening and understanding what she was saying.

"Paul - today is the best day I've had since that birthday. So thank you - thank you for one of the best days I've ever had."

I was touched. But really - what did we do today? We had a good hot breakfast and she got her cell phone charged and while we were driving she had a chance to tell me some about her life. And then we made a detour to this city where some movie was made and she got to see some of the places in the movie and we took some pictures, and then we had a dinner that was good but not great. And I thought, if this is one of the best days of her life, well, that's kind of sad.

But on the other hand, I was glad that it was such a good day for her, and that I was able to make it happen.

"If it's OK, I'd like to take a shower right now - would that be OK?"

Of course - I mean, what am I going to say?

But when she looked in the bathroom she realized that it had a full bathtub.

"Paul, do you think it'd be OK if instead of a shower I took a bath? I haven't had a bathtub in years, and the idea of soaking in a warm bath seems so nice right now. Plus, my back is kinda sore from all the driving and... well, you know..."

So I said, "Sure - I guess that's why they got a bathtub, right - for people to take a bath?"

So while I was there she got undressed - kicked off her sneakers, then her white crew socks, then pulled her gray jersey sweatshirt off over her head, leaving her standing there in her jeans and that large bra. I wasn't looking at her, but I didn't make a point of looking away, either. Then she undid her denim jeans, which I noticed were snapped wayyy below her bulging abdomen, and stepped out of them, leaving her there in the dark pink cotton panties that she slipped on when she got out of bed this morning - man, that seems like ages ago now.

"Can I use your green jersey again like last night?"

I reached into my duffel. The neon green jersey was right there on top so I grabbed and held it out to her. She reached behind her back and unselfconsciously unhooked her full bra guided it off her arms and hung it over the back of the chair by little desk. She took the jersey from my extended hand and slipped it on over her head and worked it down her body, then slipped out of her panties and went into the bathroom. I heard her turn on the water in the tub, then closed the bathroom door. But like last night, only half-way.

I heard the sounds of the tub filling and the shower curtain being pushed aside. I kicked off my shoes, deciding that it would be OK to walk around the room in my socks. I finally closed the curtains and was taking out my shaving paraphernalia and stuff when my eye caught Lorene's tote purse there on the bed. It had tipped over, and the way it was lying I could see the top third of a book.

I'm always curious about books. I didn't think she'd mind, so I pulled it out. It was something with an unusual title, "All the Light We Cannot See." It was by someone named Doerr - the picture on the back of the dust jacket showed "Doerr" to be a man. It kind of intrigued me. I mean, Lorene didn't some across as the high-brow literary type and this looked like one of those artsy-fartsy books that wins lots of awards and is boring as shit.

But like I said - I was curious.

I went over to the bathroom door and called into the opening. "Hey, Lorene, I found your book sticking out of your bag - is it OK if I take a look at it?"

"Sure - look all you want."

Then her voice changed, like she was going to ask a question - ask me for something.

"Paul. You know what would be really nice, if you came and read some of it to me," then added in her usual, cautious way, "But only if that'd be OK with you."

Sure. It wouldn't kill me, and it might even make her good day even better for her.

"You want me to come in?"

So I opened the door and was immediately hit by the moist warmth from the tub of hot water. I took off the hoodie that I've been wearing as a combination shirt and jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, right on top of "Lorene's" jersey. I put down the toilet lid and tried to make myself comfortable on the hard flat seat.

"What should I read?"

"I think I got a mark stuck in it someplace," and sure enough, there was a piece of paper sticking out from the pages. I opened the book to where her "bookmark" was - it turned out to be a "Bed, Bath & Beyond" coupon - didn't they go out of business a while back? - and started reading:

Number 4 rue Vauborel

Marie-Laure LeBlanc stands alone in her bedroom smelling a leaflet she cannot read. Sirens wail. She closes the shutters and relatches the window. Every second the airplanes draw closer; every second is a second lost. She should be rushing downstairs. She should be making for the corner of the kitchen where a little trapdoor opens into a cellar full of dust and mouse-chewed rugs and ancient trunks long unopened.

Instead she returns to the table at the foot of the bed and kneels beside the model of the city...

Beneath her fingertips, the miniature rue d'Estrées intersects the miniature rue Vauborel. Her fingers turn right; they skim doorways. One two three. Four. How many times has she done this?... She presses inward on the tiny front door, and a hidden catch releases, and the little house lifts up and out of the model. In her hands, it's about the size of one of her father's cigarette boxes.

Marie-Laure twists the chimney of the miniature house ninety degrees. Then she slides off three wooden panels that make up its roof, and turns it over. A stone drops into her palm. It's cold. The size of a pigeon's egg. The shape of a teardrop. Marie-Laure clutches the tiny house in one hand and the stone in the other. The room feels flimsy, tenuous. Giant fingertips seem about to punch through its walls.

'Papa? she whispers. "

I realized two things. I couldn't figure out what the heck was going on in the story. And I found the writing strangely moving.

"Paul? Paul??"

"Huh? What?"

"I'm finished. I forgot to get a towel - could you get one and hand it to me... please?"

I kind of gathered myself from... from wherever my mind was... and stood up from the toilet seat and grabbed one of the bigger towels. Then I noticed that the timer on the in-the-wall heater that Lorene had turned on when she first went in had timed-out, so I twisted it back on again.

"Paul, do you think you could please help me out? I think I'm a little off-balance... 'cause of this..." and she put her hand to her belly. I held out my hand to her and she took it and pulled herself up to standing, but then kept 'hold of my hand as she stepped out of the tub and onto the bathmat.

And she stood there, wet from the bath, in all her pregnant nakedness. I thought, "Should I help dry her?" but then thought that, no, we don't have that kind of relationship. In fact, we don't have any kind of relationship at all. Well, except for that thing last night...

And it didn't seem like she was expecting me to. I handed her the towel and went back into the room, leaving her to dry herself off, I guess like she ordinarily would.

"Your turn."

Oh. Yeah.

I grabbed the jersey I wore last night. I guess from now on it's going to be my robe, too. I undressed, and I tried to be as cool about it as Lorene had been when she undressed. And it really wasn't that hard. Like she did, I didn't try to cover up and I didn't try to show off - just took off my tee and jeans and Jockeys and pulled on the red Chiefs jersey. I grabbed the things I'd unpacked while Lorene was in the tub and went into the bathroom.

I took a quick shower, and figured that since I was already wet and steamy, that it would save time tomorrow morning if I shaved now. So I leaned out of the shower curtain and grabbed a Bic and the can of Barbasol and shaved in the shower.

I got out and dried off and put on some deodorant, then brushed my teeth. I slipped my jersey back on, looked around to see if I was forgetting anything, and stepped out into the room. Like last night, I left the bathroom light on and closed the door most but not all of the way.

"You clean up pretty good."

I smiled. I wasn't sure how I felt about Lorene complimenting me like that, but then I decided that it felt kinda good.

Know what else felt good?

When she put her arms around my neck and pulled my head down, gently, and kissed me. Then she pulled back and looked at me. And I guess what she saw was enough to make her do it again.

This time when she stepped back she said, "Paul?"

"Yeah?" I think I had a little catch in my throat when I answered.

"I liked what we did last night."

I didn't answer. I don't know if she was even expecting an answer.

I don't think any answer was necessary.

She put her hands on my hips to steady herself and kneeled down in front of me, sliding her small hands down to lift the front of my jersey with one hand, and with the other hand she took my cock, which somehow had become thick and engorged, and held it steady.

And she gently put her mouth over it, just holding it in the warmth and the softness. And for ten or fifteen seconds, this is all she did - just hold it. But then she started to slide her head back and forth, and she seemed to be making sure that it was always touching her tongue or her cheeks.

She didn't hurry, didn't try to act like a slut or a porn actress - just slid her soft mouth slowly and steadily back and forth on my cock, and I couldn't tell if my cock wanted to get ramrod stiff or to melt in the warmth of her mouth. I put my hands on her head, and I just held them there, liking the soft feel of her kinky rust-colored hair while this woman I didn't know 24 hours ago made love to my cock.

"Paul? Paul?"

"Oh. Yuh?"

"This position is kind of uncomfortable."

Yeah, I guess this would be kind of hard on her. I lowered my hands and took her arms and helped her to stand up. I backed her up to the edge of the bed, then guided her down and she pulled her legs back and I kneeled down, and now it was my turn to make love to her.

And that's what I tried to do - not eat her, like I might do other times. Instead, something told me that this woman - that Lorene - would prefer gentleness to passion, this time, at least. Since she was pregnant I didn't know what to expect, but her freshly-bathed pussy was fresh and soft and tinged with just the slightest hint of woman, and I heard her sigh when my lips touched the delicate folds of flesh that protruded through the soft reddish fur.

I put my hands on her slim thighs, right where they met her narrow hips, and I leaned forward until that soft fur was touching my face, and then I pressed in closer. And this time it was her turn to put her small hands on my head, and I felt her fingers in my hair.

And like that I tried to treat Lorene's pussy as lovingly as she had treated me. I pulled my nose and lips out of the soft fur and extended my tongue and began to lick up and down those soft coral-colored petals of flesh, first the outsides, and then the slit in between them. And I touched the firmer, wetter flesh there, and I licked that, running my tongue up and down the cleft there, and then touching the little bump at the top, and then running my tongue back down, then pressing in a little more firmly, trying to penetrate her with my tongue.

And in all honestly, I don't think I've ever known a lovelier pussy. And is that because Lorene - her pussy - are "different" in some way, or is it because in an effort to be gentle with this woman whose physical condition I was totally unfamiliar with, that I've taken the time to appreciate what is there? Anyway, I don't think I've ever enjoyed eating - making love to a woman - "there" as much as I am with Lorene, now.

And speaking of enjoying.

While my mind was lost in these thoughts my tongue and lips had been following a familiar path, and that path had led them to Lorene's clit, and my tongue was swirling itself around it and my lips were encircling it and sucking gently, and I was thinking that if I'm going to make her feel good then maybe I'd better make sure and do it "this way," because I don't know how much she's able to react, or whether we'd be able to find a position what would work for her, or...

"Oh, Paul...,"

... and the fingers in my hair clutched, and her hips jerked once, and then stopped, then jerked again, and then jerked again...

And then her hips - her whole body - seemed to relax totally, and I lay my cheek against her pussy and her thigh and I relaxed. I don't think I was even aware of my cock that had figured so prominently in getting us to this point.

"Paul? Let's turn down the covers, OK?"

Yes. Let's do that - turn down the covers.

I backed away from her and stood up, then held out my hand to her and she stood up, and we turned the covers down and Lorene slid back into the bed. I went over by the door and switched off the overhead light, then joined her in bed

I slid in and lay on my side and slid in against her, kind of like we were last night, when we...

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"This time I'd like to be able to look at you. Do you think we can do it that way?"

I wasn't certain we could, but then, what did I know?"

Lorene was already lying on her back. I rolled over onto my knees and she pulled her legs back and I slid in between them, and I stopped, and I looked at her.

"This OK?" Suave, huh?

"I think so," and she opened her arms to me and I leaned forward, and I couldn't actually lie down on her because, well, you know... She took one arm off from around my shoulder and slid her hand down between us and took my cock between her thumb and two fingers and put it "near" the entrance to her pussy.

"Can you move a little... yeah, like that," and the tip of my cock felt the warm wetness of her pussy, and I said, "Okay?" and she said "Yeah, I think so," and I pushed a little, and I felt myself slipping into pussy.

And in the dim light I could see her smile. I thought it was a smile of pleasure. But as I kept looking, it looked for all the world like a happy smile.

And when Lorene looked up at me, she saw the same smile on my face. Just... happy. Happy to be here. At this time. With this person.

And we fucked. And it was gentle. And it was really nice. Because we weren't trying to "accomplish" anything. Just enjoying being with another person - this other person - right now. No agendas, and therefore completely free to enjoy the moment.

And maybe because I was totally into it - "in the moment" - I found myself feeling those familiar sensations. And Lorene saw it on my face.

"Go ahead, Paul - it's alright to do it." Then she said, "You already made me cum - now it's your turn."

And I knew that she meant it, and I smiled again, and I felt her flex the muscles in her pussy a couple of times, and I made the moves that I knew would make me cum...

And I did. No grunting or swearing, no frantic lunges. Just burying myself all the way in her cunt one last time, and then complete release. I stayed like that, letting my breathing settle down, and I smiled, a genuine smile, at her. And she reached up and put her arms around me, as much as she was able. And we lay like that for a while, I don't know how long, until it seemed the right time to extricate myself. Lorene dropped her arms from around me and I carefully pulled myself out of her, then backed away and rolled off and over on my side...

And like the previous night, Lorene turned onto her side and snuggled back in against me, and I put my arm around her, and like last night, with my nose nuzzled into her soft kinky hair and my hand cupping a soft, full breast, I fell into a peaceful, restful sleep.

Sometime during the night I felt, then heard, her get up and go to the bathroom, probably to pee, then heard the flush, then felt her slip back into bed and snuggle in against me again. And then I felt the movement, and her small buttocks wiggling against my crotch...

Of course I started to get hard! And like last night, Lorene bent her leg and I slid in until my cock was between her buttocks, til I touched the soft fuzz, and then the wet flesh beyond. And Lorene shifted position a little, and I wiggled in underneath her, and she pushed down toward me, and I pressed my hips up to her - and I my cock was seated inside her pussy. And then I pushed a little more, and she pushed back, and I was all the way inside of her.

And I put my arms around her, and we fell into a pretty good rhythm, and my pregnant Lorene and I enjoyed a middle-of-the-night quickie. I had one arm slipped underneath her, and I moved my arm that was over her down, to the place where her legs met, and she lifted her top leg just little, just enough for my fingers to find the way to her slit, and to the little bump at the top.

And like that I quickly, almost efficiently, reach the point where I felt like I could cum. And I had gotten Lorene to the point where she was moving under my busy fingers, and then she started making the "Mmmhh, mmmhh, mmmhh" sounds that she made before when she was cumming...

I said, "OK?" and she said "Yesss..." and I began cumming in her and I held her tight, and her hips spasmed three quick times...

Then our bodies relaxed, and like that, with me still inside her and my arms around her, and her one arm over mine, we drifted into that lovely post-coital sleep.

And in no time my phone's wake-up alarm went off, telling me - now us - that it was time to start the day.

And you know that as soon as I got a little conscious and realized where I was - and with whom - my guy brain wondered if we were going to have a little wake-up sex...

But Lorene was already up and grabbing her stuff and heading toward the bathroom, and I saw the light as she opened the door and heard the little click of the heater knob being turned on, and I new that things were all business now.

Lorene came out and took off my/her Seahawks jersey and started dressing, and I went into the batch to get ready for the day.

At 8:25 we were all packed, so I carried both our bags down the stairs and Lorene had her tote and we headed out. After stowing our stuff in the truck we went back around the house to where the man indicated the kitchen door was, and we knocked.

The door opened almost immediately - I guess they were already expecting us - and the older man we saw yesterday afternoon when we got there greeted us.

"C'mon in, you two. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself yesterday - I'm Ed - you've alerady met Millie," and he looked over toward the stove where the woman we'd met was standing by the stove next to a carton of eggs.

"Fried or scrambled?' I guess "Ed" is the more outgoing of this pair.

Lorene and I looked at each other, a bit bewildered as to what to say. Like, "Isn't that something a couple should already know?" I nodded to her, and she said, "Scrambled?" but like a question.

Millie responded, "Scrambled it is. White, wheat, or sourdough?"

Again, we were taken by surprise, until we realized that, under the circumstances, she was asking us about toast.

"Sourdough." And then, not wanting to sound abrupt, I said, "That is, if you have it sourdough would be nice."

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't have it, would I?"

Ed smiled. "As you can tell, Millie ain't big on small talk," and he ushered us over to the table. Glasses of orange juice were already poured. "Coffee or tea," but it looked like Ed was all ready to pour coffee so that's what we said.

"I know I said bacon 'n' eggs yesterday, but Millie baked a ham last night, if you'd like that instead."

Well, heck, yes! My momma didn't raise no fool - if somebody offers you some home-baked ham, you take it! Besides, we had bacon and sausages at Denny's yesterday morning, and this would be something different.

"The ham would be nice, if that's OK, Sir?"

"Ed. Ham it is."

When Millie brought our plates, the sociable Ed asked if we minded if they sat with us while we ate. Are we going to say no? Besides, I got a good feeling about the two of them, like "These are basically good people."

So Ed and Millie sat and talked with us while we ate breakfast. And I have to admit - the OJ seemed like it was fresh-squeezed and the coffee was good and the eggs were perfectly scrambled. And the ham! Lorene made such a fuss about how good it was that Millie went back to the counter and brought over two more slices for us.

And they asked the usual: Where you from, where you headed? Lorene looked at me, and there was concern on her face, and I realized that she didn't want to share to much information, in case... well, just in case! So, "We're from Washington, up north of Seattle. We're headed to see some old high-school friends down in California." Than I added, even though I hadn't mentioned it to Lorene, "We're hoping to make it to California by tonight."

So we had second cups of coffee, and that made Millie say, "Sounds like you're going to be in the car a lot today - want to use the bathroom before you leave."

Lorene smiled. "Thank you. That's a real good idea."

While Lorene was in the bathroom Millie asked me, "So, when is your wife due?"

I know they'd been checking, looking for wedding rings and seeing none.

"Well, the doctor thinks about seven or eight weeks." I had no idea if this was true, or even a reasonable estimate. Or if Lorene had a doctor, for that matter - the way she described her life, it didn't sound like she got a lot of care, of any type - and that might include a doctor.

Her curiosity apparently satisfied, Millie went over to the counter and started working. She went over the the refrigerator and got out a couple of jars and went back to whatever she was doing at the counter.

Lorene came back to the kitchen while I was giving Ed the $50 for our room for the night. Then, as we were getting ready to go out the door and hit the road, Millie came over with a plastic Safeway bag and handed it to Lorene.

"You two got a long drive ahead o' you so I made you some sandwiches outta that ham you liked. Might save you a restaurant stop."

I was so touched by this simple kindness that I wanted to hug the woman. But I wasn't so sure how that would go down.

Lorene, on the other hand, had no such qualms. She turned and put her arms around Millie and hugged her - carefully. Millie didn't return the hug. But I saw her smile.

I shook hands with Ed and we thanked them again and said our goodbyes, and as we turned back to wave one more time we saw them standing there in the doorway, their arms around each other's waists. They both waved back to us.

So we started driving. We got as far as the next town, which turned out to be a place named "Seaside," when I realized we were going to need gas. I pulled into the first place I saw, which happened to be a Shell-Circle K. I pulled up next to a free pump, got out, popped the fuel door, and picked up the nozzle. And that's when I looked at the prices and realized that gas was probably a whole lot cheaper back in Astoria and I should have filled up there. Anyhow, unscrewed the gas cap and started pumping. While I was doing that, Lorene went into the convenience store.

And while I was waiting for the tank to fill and listening to the cost go up with each click of the meter, I was wondering about Lorene, and about the sex thing.

And I wondered, why is she was doing this. Does she feel that she "owes" me - that she needs to "pay me" - somehow - for the "favor" that I'm doing her?

Or is she trying to manipulate me - trying to use the promise of further sex to insure that I continue to let her ride with me instead of dropping her off someplace, or leaving her behind at the motel some morning?

Or does she have some romantic fantasy - that I'll somehow "rescue" from her current situation, and that there's a "future" for her and me?

Or maybe she just likes having sex that isn't extorted from her, with someone who, if he doesn't "love" her at least won't abuse her, and who maybe likes her - maybe even feels a little bit of tenderness toward her...

Twenty-three point one gallons later the pump handle shut off. I put the nozzle back and got back into the truck and waited until Lorene came out of the store with two of their plastic grocery bags.

"I got some stuff for us 'case we want to have something to snack on on the way."

She reached into one of the bags and showed me: two apples, two bananas, and a two-pack of Little Debbie chocolate cupcakes. She opened the other bag and in it were a couple of waters, a couple of coffee drinks, and one plastic bottle of chocolate PowRmilk.

"It was the last one they had. I just hope it's still good, but I know you like them."

So we drove out of the Shell station and back onto 101 and headed on south. We weren't on the road more than eight or ten minutes before we saw one of those brown "Scenic Site" highway signs, for something called "Haystack Rock." I looked at Lorene.

"Should we?"

"I guess so. I'll probably never be back this way again. If it's OK with you..."

She was probably right about that. I turned at the exit, and two right turns had us at the beach looking at this big honkin' rock, sitting out there all alone in the surf. We got out of the truck and stood in the chilly damp air and looked at this... phenomenon, I guess you'd call it. But then the chill was getting to us so we turned and got back in the truck and retraced our route back to 101.

But the thing was, we had done it. And I knew that years later I will probably still remember this time, standing on that cold damp beach with this woman named Lorene. And, somehow, I knew that she would, too.

Highway 101 ran mostly along the coast so we got to see how the Oregon coast looks on a chilly, damp, cloudy Pacific Northwest November day After a while the highway veered inland to a town named Tillamook (like the cheese) before it turned back toward the coast at a place called Pacific City.

Turns out Pacific City has its own "Haystack Rock," so again we thought "When will be back this way?" But then the GPS didn't show a convenient route to someplace called Cape Kiwanda, which was the place to see the rock, so we got back on 101 and continued on south.

The highway hugs the coast here, so the road had a lot more curves and I couldn't drive as fast, so we only made it another 50 miles past Pacific City before we realized that we were hungry and needed a break. It looked like a town named Newport was straight ahead of us, and we figured there'd be someplace there where we could part and eat our snacks and have something to drink.

We drove through town looking for a fast food place that would have restrooms we could use. Surprisingly, there wasn't a Burger King or a Dairy Queen or even a Mickey D's to be seen. The closest thing we found was a Starbucks just off 101, so we pulled into the lot and parked.

Lorene fished out the bag that Millie gave us when we were leaving, and like she'd said, there were two sandwiches. Lorene opened one of the carefully-wrapped waxed paper parcels.

"It's that incredible baked ham we had for breakfast. And it's on big slabs of that sourdough bread. Paul, she's even cut it into quarters so it'll be easy for us to eat on the road. Wasn't that sweet?"

Yes, I agreed that that was very thoughtful of Millie. I took one of the sandwich quarters that Lorene held out to me. And not only were they that great ham and bread, but Millie had slathered the bread with mayo and put a big sweet pickle chip on each of the quarters. I think Millie's hospitality to two strangers is going to stick we me a long time.

We ate in the truck - we didn't think it'd be very classy - or appreciated - if we went into the Starbucks and then spread our lunch out on one of their tables. I left the motor running so we'd have the heat, but we cracked the windows open a bit so we'd get some fresh air, too. Lorene pulled out one of the waters she got at the Circle K. She twisted of the cap and we shared the bottle of water while we ate the marvelous sandwiches.

And it was nice, sharing our lunches there in the running truck - for some reason the word "companionable" came to mind. But then companionability had to yield to reality.

"Paul, do you think we could use their restrooms - I gotta pee something fierce."

So I turned off the truck and we went into the Starbucks and I ordered a large coffee of the day while Lorene hurried off in the direction of the restrooms. I got my coffee, added my usual milk and a few shakes of the natural sugar, then sat down at a table and sipped my excessively hot coffee until Lorene came out of the restroom.

"You need to go, Paul?"

Yes, the few sips of the sturdy coffee reminded me that now might be a good opportunity for me, too.

I got a to-go top for my coffee and we got back in the truck. Lorene dug into one of her Circle K bags.

"Apple or banana?"

Bananas for both of us. I peeled mine part way, and then we were back on 101.

And it was pretty much an uneventful drive. My GPS said that it was about four hours and forty minutes from where we were to Crescent City, California, which is what I figured would be a good place for us to stop for the night. The scenery along the coast was what I guess you'd call dramatic, but it was also a drab, dreary, drizzly November day. The radio reception here was spotty, and even when we found a station we liked it would go in and out until we lost it completely.

I sipped on my Starbucks, while Lorene took the opportunity to relax, to the point of dozing off often. And when she did, I was able to get unhurried, non-obvious looks at her. Her profile, when her head was facing straight ahead, gave you a different impression of her than when you saw her head-on. From this angle she had kind of a cute nose, and her chin - in fact, her whole face - didn't look quite as long and she didn't look quite as "homely" as when I first got a look at her in the light of my dashboard, that night that I picked her up.

That was only two nights ago?

And then she'd wake up and turn and look at me, and then she'd smile, and when she smiled like that it broadened her face a little, so it didn't look so narrow and angular.

And she'd ask how far we've come, or how much we have left to go, and she might fiddle with the radio a bit, and then doze off again, and I figured that it was OK, that she was probably recovering from weeks - months? - of stress in her life.

And I'd look at her there, sleeping - peacefully, it appeared - and I felt this... kind of feeling toward her - not love, but maybe ... maybe fondness, or even a kind of a tenderness toward her - that I liked her, and she seemed like a good person, and I guess I wanted her to be happy.

One time she woke up and her mouth was a little dry from sleeping, and she got out one of the coffee drinks she'd bought and we shared that.

And about every hour or hour and a half we'd stop someplace and I'd buy a coffee, or if it was a gas station I'd buy a few gallons of gas and she'd use the restroom and I'd take the opportunity to stretch my legs from driving.

And then back in the truck for another hour or so. One time we ate the apples she'd bought, and she opened the bottle of PowRmik - it was still good - and we shared that.

And then we started seeing the signs for Crescent City. And a good thing, too, 'cause it was getting kind of dark and I wasn't feeling good about driving at night in the foggy weather. We crossed the Oregon-California state line and in 10 miles or so we started seeing signs for various lodgings in town. I turned into a place called North Woods Inn that looked modest but also looked to be well tended. I had Lorene come in with me, hoping that "her condition" might get us a little sympathy, and along with that maybe a better rate.

I don't think it saved us any dollars, but the man at the desk did give us a room that I'm sure was nicer than the basic room we paid for. We drove around to the end where our room was, grabbed our stuff out of the truck, and went in. We didn't even take off our jackets. We took advantage of having our own bathroom right there, then turned around and went right back to the truck and went looking for something to eat.

We hadn't seen much driving in so we headed on south, farther into town. We passed a number of places that looked nice but probably cost more than our budget and ended up once again at a Denny's, We got a booth right away and the young woman who was our server immediately asked, "Coffee?" and started filling the mugs that were already on the table.

A look at the menu and we decided, like last night, to split. We ordered a grilled salmon salad, then one of their melts, and sipped our coffees, trying to warm up.

Our orders came fairly quickly - it wasn't too busy on a Sunday evening - and we dug in. Being a Denny's, our expectations weren't real high, but it turned out the salad was really good and the melt was hot and filled us up. Our plates were cleared, and we sat sipping our last mugs of coffee - we both went for decaf.

And I found myself thinking about tonight, and how I was thinking about snuggling up next to Lorene's soft skin and her nice-smelling hair, and maybe...

Then Lorene said, "The bed in our room looked awfully nice, didn't it?" Then she added, "Is that a king-sized bed?"

And like I said, I think they put us in a nicer room, and that room featured a single king-sized bed that looked like it might even be new. And I was wondering - did Lorene's question/comment about the bed mean that her mind was running along the same lines as mine?

We paid our bill - unlike last night's dinner in Astoria, the California and local sales tax added another four dollars to the total - and drove "home" to our room - and our "awfully nice" king-sized bed. We both unpacked our toiletries and the team jerseys we've been wearing at night and Lorene undressed next to me in what has I guess become her usual unconcerned way. She gathered up her things and headed for the bathroom and I heard the shower go on.

I remembered that I needed to call my friend Richie and let him know that I'd be arriving a day later than he and I'd originally talked about. Of course he said no problem - that I'll get there when I get there.

And then, of course, I had to tell him about Lorene. And, of course, he had to give me shit.

"Very classy, Paulie - picking up a hitchhiking chick - a pregnant chick, no less! - and then conning her - or maybe letting her con you - into driving her all the way down to Pendleton! Man, she must give really great head for you to fall for that."

I had to let him go on. He was entitled. But then when he ran out of ways to tell me what a dick-propelled idiot I was he said, "Paulie, you did a good thing, man - no telling what might have happened to her if it'd been someone else besides you who stopped to help her."

Richie and I hung up, and it was then that I realized that it was the hairdryer I'd been hearing in the background, and it had been going for a long time now. I guess Lorene was treating herself to the chance to take a long, leisurely shower and wash her hair, and I wondered how long it had been since she last had that small luxury.

She came out of the bathroom, her kinky chestnut hair washed and fluffed and shiny, wearing my Seahawks jersey that looked so nice with her hair.

"I called my friend Richie and told him I'd probably be there the day after tomorrow." I stopped, then added, "He said it's OK whenever I get to his place, and he says 'Hi' and that I should tell you not to beat me up too badly."

Lorene smiled. "That was nice of him, looking out for you like that. I'll try to be gentle - but only because your friend asked so nicely."

Then, "I guess the bathroom's all yours now, Paul." And then with this suddenly-apologetic voice she said, "I hope I didn't steam it up too badly for you."

I went in - the bathroom was steamy a little, but also nice and warm - and showered quickly. And like the other night, because my whiskers were already softened by the hot water and the steam I decided I might as well shave, too. Save time in the morning, right?

I slipped my Chiefs jersey on and came out of the bathroom, all showered and shaved, my face as smooth as a baby's butt. Actually, I have no idea how smooth a baby's butt is but that's what they say, anyway.

Lorene was sitting up in the bed, her legs under the covers, like she'd been waiting for me. She flipped back the covers for me to get in. I turned off the bedside lamp and slid into bed - next to Lorene, and her soft skin.

And I guess we'd both silently agreed that we wanted to fuck. So there was no "courtship" - I leaned over and kissed her, and she put a soft hand on my cheek and kissed me back, real soft and gentle. I lowered my head, kissing down her chest until I reached one of her large breasts. And I kissed it, and was surprised that the skin was even softer than her lips.

And speaking of lips, I moved mine over one of those swollen dark brown nipples and sucked gently. I played a little, sucking it out, then licking around it, then lapping across it, before wrapping my lips around the hard nub and sucking a little more, and I was rewarded by Lorene's hands caressing my hair, and by a gentle moan.

And while I was playing with her breast and her nipple, I hadn't realized it but I had been sliding my hand over her large, distended belly. Now I moved my head - and my lips - down and simply placed there them against her, and I just maintained contact - not kissing or licking or sucking - just touching her there.

And I know that... that the baby in there... is hers, and it's not mine, and I had no right to touch it so... proprietarily. But somehow, it seemed OK, like she wanted me to all along. And it may have helped that while I was doing this, my hand slid down between her legs and my fingers had found their way through the fluffy brown puff there and was gently playing with the thin, moist petals of flesh that stuck out.

Her legs opened, reflexively, I think, and with that her pussy opened wider, giving my fingers even more room to explore the softness and the dampness and the slickness there.

I was loving the feel of it - the softness and the slickness - on my fingers, and I was just about to slide down in the bed and place myself between those welcoming thighs and start kissing and licking and sucking when I heard her voice.

"Paul?"

"Yes, Lorene?"

"Paul, you think it would be OK if maybe this time, that I get on top of you?"

Well, I certainly couldn't see any harm in that.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Darling."

Darling? Where the fuck did that come from??

But she didn't say anything about it so I asked, "How should we do this?"

"Maybe if you just lay on your back and get your head comfortable on the pillows, and then maybe I could try some ways to see what... what works nicest."

So I rolled away from her and onto my back, and like she said, I wriggled into a comfortable position on the pillows, and once I did, Lorene rolled over and straddled me and got into a position where her pussy was right over my standing cock.

No rocket science here - she took my cock between her thumb and forefinger and positioned it, then positioned herself, and holding my cock, she carefully lowered herself onto me.

And like this, being able to watch Lorene lowering herself onto me, and seeing my erect cock disappear inside her, or maybe it was seeing her pussy swallow my standing cock, and not having to think about keeping my weight off her or getting the right angle or whatever - it all let me concentrate on the amazing sensation of her warm, wet cuntflesh sliding down over the thin, sensitive skin of my cock.

And this way I could watch her expression, and how it changed from concentration when she was trying to get the position right, to contact, to experiencing the sensation of my cock filling her, to the... satisfaction of having me inside of her.

She held herself still, just getting used to the full feeling, I guess. Then she started to move. Backward and forward, in kind of a rocking movement, and I could feel my cock moving back and forth inside her, pressing against different parts of her cunt. And then she'd kind of rotate her hips, like she was trying to get my cock to touch all around inside of her. And I could see the little changes in her expression as different parts of her made contact with me.

So we - meaning she - went on like this for a while - a very pleasant while, as far as I was concerned, when she said, "Paul, can we try it another way?"

Sure.

"Certainly. What do you want to do, or want me to do."

"For starters, just keep laying like you are and I'm going to try to turn around on you, OK?"

So she tried to knee-walk over and around me, and of course I slipped out of her - or more precisely, she slipped herself off of me. But then she got turned around so that now she was facing my feet and took my cock and lowered herself onto me again, this time at a slightly different angle because of our new position.

At first she braced her hands on my legs and rocked herself up and down on my cock. Then once she got sure in this position and didn't need to brace herself on my legs she moved her hands up, and I could see that she was holding her heavy breasts and playing and squeezing and tweaking her swollen nipples. And I got to watch her small-but-nicely-shaped ass moving up and down on me, and to see her reddish brown asshole wink at me each time she leaned forward.

I put my hands on her hip bones to help steady her, but also just so that I could touch her, and we went on like that for a while. But then she said, "Paul, would it be OK if I laid back on you - and then maybe you could put your arms around me and hold me that way?"

So I took my hands off her hips and she laid back on me, and that way I got to feel her weight on me.

And like she asked, I put my arms around her and I held her, and I kissed her shoulders and her neck, and my hands moved to her breasts, and I tried to do what she had been doing, and apparently I was doing something right because she made the gentle little humming-moaning sounds, and she put one hand back over her head and again started running her fingers through my hair.

And it was all nice - really nice.

And this way I could reach down with my hands and play with her pussy, and massage her clit so that she could get more pleasure this way.

And I think she must have been feeling really comfortable because of what she said next.

"Paul...?

"Paul, do you... I was thinking... "

"Yes?"

"Would you want to maybe try it with you in... in my... bottom...?"

So she wanted me - us - to do anal.

And I thought, there's really two parts to this. First, she feels... safe enough... with me to do it. And second, has she ever had anal sex before? (Or, at least, has she ever done it willingly before??)

How to answer her the right way?

"If you'd like to, I'd love to... do it... in your bottom."

I waited, to give her time to think about it, change her mind if she wanted to. She didn't - change her mind, that is - so I asked, "Is there a way you want to do... it?"

"I thought maybe you'd know a... you know... a good way to do it?"

Sure - I'm a real expert. I've only fucked one girl in the ass, one time. And she didn't like it and we never did it again, and in fact we broke up not long after that. So - yeah, ask me!

But since that first not-very-successful experience, I've read up a bit.

"Maybe, we could lay down on our sides, with your back to me, and..."

"Yeah, I was kinda thinkin' that, too."

So she sat up and slowly lifted herself off me, and I found that I was suddenly missing the feeling of having her weight on me.

But anyway, she rolled off me, but then she leaned over and reached across the bed and picked up something from the bedside table on her side. She rolled back toward me.

"Here - maybe it would help if we use something like this."

I unscrewed the lid on what felt like the shape of the jar of Pond's cold cream I'd seen her use on her belly and dipped two fingers in and scooped some up. Okay, now what?

The things I read and watched on YouTube said that you start by helping relax the woman's - or man's, I guess - anus. Easy enough to say, but a bit... delicate for the very first time with someone new.

"Here, maybe if you pull up your knee - yeah, like that, then I can get to... then I can massage some of the cream in..."

So she did, and I did. She jumped a little at the first touch, but not because I touched her "there," but because I guess "cold cream" is really cold. Anyhow, I worked one finger around the outside, just getting it "moisturized" and getting her used to being touched there, then applied some pressure to my finger so as I worked it around I'd be stretching - and, hopefully, relaxing - the tight little muscle.

And I won't go into detail. If you've done it, you already know what's involved, and if you haven't, well, there's no way I can possibly explain to you what it's like. You'll learn on your own.

But when I finally got her relaxed and slippery enough to get three of my bunched fingers in her and move them around a bit she said, "Paul, I think I'm ready now."

"Sure?"

"Yes, sure." She hesitated a moment, then said, "Well - pretty sure."

And this simple exchange really touched me. The more time I spend with Lorene, the more I come to the feeling that she is a gentle soul, and it almost made me ache to think of how she's been treated - by her "boyfriend," and by life so far.

But now's not the time. It's time for me to smear a glob of the Pond's cream around the head of my cock and down the shaft a-ways.

"Ready?"

"I think so.

"Keep your knee up like that and I'll scoot in... here... and..."

And like I said, I slid down in the bed a bit and then moved my hips up against her and thrust them up to her, 'til my cock touched her. She sensed that our positions weren't perfect for penetration and rolled over, just a little, and that allowed me to get so I was just a little above her and could push down and...

I felt the head of my cock meet the resistance of her sphincter, but then I actually felt her relax, and I took that as an invitation to... as an invitation. I keep pressing, and all of a sudden the crown of my cock pops through her anus, and now I feel the heat of her rectum surrounding me.

I stopped. "Is it alright?"

"Take it slow now...," but then she added, "... but only at first."

I paused a moment to let her ass adjust to my cock being inside it - and to let my mind adjust to the fact that here I am, with my cock in Lorene's asshole, at her invitation.

I kept pushing, steadily, and Lorene didn't say anything, and then I was all the way in her, inside her ass.

And that's when I stopped.

"OK?"

I barely got the words out when Lorene said, "Yes."

Then, "Paul?"

Okay, here it comes - time for the fun to be over.

"Yes?"

"It's not like anything I ever imagined."

This could go either way.

"Is that good?"

"Oh, Paul, it's better than I ever thought it would be."

She tried to look back at me, like she wanted to kiss me, but our position wouldn't allow it so she reached back with her arm and touched my head and threaded her fingers through my hair. And then something I never expected to hear.

"Thank you, Paul - thank you doing this for me."

Doing this? For her?

"Do it, Paul - I want it to feel good for you."

Oh yeah - no problem there!

But I wanted it to be good for her, too. I reached around and over her hip, and I was just able to reach between her legs and to find her clit. Was she ready? One way to find out.

"Ohhhh..."

Yes, she was ready.

And that was my sign. Now that I was sure Lorene was feeling pleasure from... this, that now I could let myself go and please myself.

And by that, I mean fucking her ass - sliding my cock in and out through that hot, velvet channel, and how it felt, the velvet flesh, the muscles squeezing, compressing my cock -

And my arms around her warm body, and the smell of her hair, and how soft her skin feels against mine...

And then the cock thing again. I really needed to cum. But I needed to be sure that it was good for Lorene. I focused my attention - well, most of my attention - on Lorene's clit, and how the slick swollen little bump felt as my fingers slid over it and around it, and on how Lorene would lift her pelvis - as much as she could in this position - to meet my fingers, and to increase the contact...

And then I felt her body stiffen, and I knew what was coming, and I knew that now it was OK for me to satisfy myself. So I let myself go - I gave in to the feelings in my cock. One little warning twinge, and then three - four - five... six? pulses - was I ever going to stop cumming, cumming in Lorene's hot, tight asshole.

"Oh, Paul - that was - did you...?"

She's concerned about me?

"Yes, I did. It was wonderful."

And then,

"You were wonderful."

Again, she raised her arm and put her hand on my head and her fingers in my hair, and we lay like that for maybe five minutes. We were starting to get tired from the position we were in, and when she turned, just a little, my totally deflated cock slipped out of her... out of her.

Still, we laid there and cuddled like that, until I felt her turn her side of the covers back and she got out of bed and went into the bathroom. In a minute she came out holding something.

"Here," and she pulled the sheet back and sat down on the edge of the bed. And I lay there in the bed and let Lorene bathe my cock with that soft, wet, warm washcloth. When she finished she leaned down and kissed the tip of my cock softly. She went back in the bathroom and rinsed the washcloth, then came out and closed the bathroom door most of the way, leaving some light shining through. She got back in bed and snuggled up against me, and I fell into this beautiful, peaceful sleep.

Sometime during the night I felt something down around my middle. I gained consciousness enough to realize that it was Lorene, and that she had my cock in her mouth. I wasn't up to doing anything so I rested one hand on her head and enjoyed the feeling of her soft kinky hair, and of my cock in her soft, warm mouth.

In a while she took her mouth off me and lay back down, and I snuggled in against her and we both fell back to sleep again.

The next time I woke the gray light was peeking in through the crack between the motel drapes that would never quite close. Lorene's hand was on my cock, and unlike during the night, this time it seemed ready to rise to to the occasion. I could feel myself getting hard, and that's when she leaned down and took the tip in her mouth while her hand continued to work its magic.

Once she was pleased with the results she put a kiss on the tip, then swung her leg over me and positioned herself right over my cock. A little more, and her pussy was touching the tip of my cock. Once she was sure everything was in place she relaxed and lowered herself onto me and once again I watched my cock disappear inside her.

Bracing her hands on my chest, she basically fucked herself on me, raising and lowering her body, changing positions, sliding back so my cock was touching one place inside her, then leaning forward, rubbing her clit along the top of my cock.

And of course it felt good! My cock is buried all the way in a warm, wet pussy, and she's doing all the work, making sure that I'm touching all the right places at all the right times. My job was to stay hard and enjoy the sensations, the warm, slippery sensations coming from my cock as it slides through her warm, slippery insides of her cunt.

And more.

Like this, in the dim morning light, I could look up, at Lorene. And as I looked, she no longer seemed homely. Still not pretty, by any means. But... I don't know - now I didn't see a set of less-than-lovely features - I saw a woman - a gentle, loving woman, and one who seemed to be enjoying sex, with me, right now.

To my own surprise, I lifted my hands from her hips, where I'd been holding her, and reached up and put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her down to me, and I kissed her. I didn't plan on doing it, never even thought about it. But right now, I wanted to do this - to... communicate... affection - "I like you, and I'm glad to be here with you."

She seemed surprised, of course, and after the moment of surprise she returned my kiss. But then she stopped and looked at me with an expression that was almost... sad. She smiled, then shook her head slightly and sat up from me.

"Wait." She carefully lifted herself up off me, and I felt the coolness as I my cock was no longer inside her warm pussy. She turned around so we were no longer facing each other and took my cock in her fingers and held it steady and then lowered herself back onto it, and once again I felt her warmth as her body enveloped me.

And like that she rode up and down on me. I watched her slim-but-nice ass moving up and down and her wrinkly little asshole wink at me each time she leaned forward to press her clit against my cock, and I wondered if we might have a replay of last night's anal action, and I could feel my cock getting harder the more I thought about that possibility. But then I saw her move one hand down in front of her, between her legs, and soon she brought herself to the orgasm she was seeking.

She stayed like that, turned around, hands braced on my knees, for another minute or two. Then she rocked forward and off me, grabbed "her" Seahawks jersey, and headed to the bathroom. I packed up our stuff, such as it might be, the went into the bathroom to wash up after Lorene was finished.

While I was in the bathroom Lorene apparently went down the hall to the lobby because when I came out there were two cups of hot coffee sitting on the little table. I fished around in our plastic grocery bags but all I found were the two apples and the one Little Debby cupcake we had left.

After our little "distraction" this morning we thought we should get out on the road as soon as possible - California is the "longest" state, and we were driving from the very top of the state to Oceanside, hear the very "bottom," so we needed to get going. The apples and a shared cupcake were going to have to hold us for a while.

We checked out of the motel and got in the truck and started driving down the coast. But after just a half an hour we decided we were both pretty hungry. Fortunately, by then we'd come to a little town named Klamath. I stopped for gas and asked the old dude there if there was someplace we could get breakfast and he said the best place was a cafe called "Elsie's."

"They don't got a lot, but what they got's real good."

We found Elsie's just a block off 101. The old guy was right - the breakfast "menu" was mainly variations on biscuits and gravy. We saw the size of the servings and decided that we would share a single order, with a couple of fried eggs on the side. As we were getting ready to leave we saw the cinnamon rolls, so we asked for refills on our coffee and split one of the huge rolls as well.

And then we drove, and in another hour we were in Eureka.

"It says...," Lorene had been scrolling through her phone, looking, I guess, to see if there were things to see along the way, "It says here that Eureka has lots of great old Victorian houses and mansions." And she left it like that.

Guess it's up to me.

"Would you like to see if we can see some of them?"

"Could we?"

Yes, we could.

Seems like Eureka was once a very prosperous community with some very rich residents. As Lorene read to me from her phone, it got started supplying mines and miners for some nearby mineral strike and then became a lumber capital and in the late 1800s created some really wealthy lumber barons who built some absolutely spectacular houses. Lorene's phone showed a route we could take through town where we could see a bunch of the more impressive ones without going too far off our route or adding too much time to our trip.

And I have to admit, it was worth the slight detour. Also, it made the trip feel less like the necessity-driven migration that it was and more like a little vacation.

I decided that I liked that feeling.

Also, I decided that I liked having someone to share the vacation with.

Our "tour" of Eureka didn't take us that long and soon we found ourselves back on 101 again, heading south. Just a little outside Eureka the highway turned inland, and soon after that we started seeing signs for Humboldt Redwoods State Park.

"It says that it contains the Rockefeller Forest, which it says is the world's largest remaining contiguous old-growth forest of coast redwoods." She looked at me. "I guess that's important, huh?"

101 ran right along the edge of the park, and there were lots of signs directing you to various campgrounds or points of interest. The one that really caught our eyes, though, was one for the "Dyerville Giant."

Heck, yes, we had to see the Giant! We turned in - it was just a short distance off the highway - and found ourselves in a parking lot in a grove of magnificent trees which we assumed, from the name of the park, were Humboldt redwoods.

"We can't just sit here in the truck and look - we've got to get out and see it!"

So we got out and locked the truck and took the short path that directed us to the "Giant," which is - or at least one time was - thought to be the world's largest tree. To tell the truth I'm not sure we ever saw the "Giant," because all the trees looked gigantic. But I'm glad we stopped. The brief hike in the silent grove of the magnificent trees was a welcome change from our three days of pounding concrete. Also, Lorene took advantage of our stop to use the small restroom there at the trailhead to get rid of that second mug of coffee we had with our cinnamon roll at Elsie's.

Back in the truck and driving again we saw a sign for the "Rockefeller Loop," but Lorene looked it up and found that it was just another hike, and since we'd already taken the one hike to see the Giant we figured that we'd really be better off trying to make some miles.

Where we were was a pretty remote, sparsely populated section of California, and among other things that meant there weren't many radio stations and that reception was spotty.

So we talked. About Lorene, and her father (disappeared when she was four), and how her mother tried to make ends meet by waitressing and hotel housekeeper jobs, and then marrying what became her stepfather, and how he treated her mom better but never really seemed to care much about her scrawny little daughter.

And about the one good vacation they took when she was twelve, when they rented a cabin at Lake Chelan for a week, and how there were other kids there and how she liked playing in the lake, and how her mom and her stepdad seemed to get along better the time that they were there. And I remembered the faded "Lake Chelan" canvas tote that now constitutes 50% of Lorene's "luggage."

And that seemed to be the last nice thing that happened to her in the eight or nine years since then.

I didn't think I had much to tell her, except I had to tell her something so I told her how I had a pretty "normal" boyhood, and how me and my friend Richie would ride our bikes to the public swimming pool, and playing baseball in the street in front of our house and later in Little League (which was far less formalized than I guess it is today). And how my parents were OK, "but maybe a little square," and it seemed like they were more strict than my friends' parents, but now looking at other people I guess my parents did OK...

And just about the time we crossed into Sonoma County we realized that our huge biscuits-and-gravy breakfasts had worn off and we were hungry. As we were approaching a town called Cloverdale we saw a sign telling (warning?) us that there was a McDonald's at the next exit. Wouldn't have been our first choice, but it fit the budget.

I won't tell you what we had to eat there - you already know what they got. It was almost two thirty when we finished and I figured I had another three hours of driving left in me before it got too dark and I got too tired. So we drove south through the familiar "wine names" of Geyserville and Healdsburg, and then Santa Rosa and Petaluma, and in almost no time we were at San Quentin and picking up the 580 to bypass San Francisco, and I realized that we'd be going real close to Richmond and the Fedex center where I'd worked for a couple of years.

And I realized that, no, I was not experiencing any nostalgic urge to go back and see where "my journey" had begun, and I was pretty sure that Lorene wouldn't have been impressed, either.

Now there were a lot more radio stations to listen to, and I let Lorene follow whatever interested her. The first thing that caught her ear was, to my surprise, a host and an interviewer talking about the homeless problem in Berkeley. When she'd heard enough of that she started scanning stations and stopped at one that was playing "classic rock," which seemed to mean from the '90s, which didn't seem too "classic" to me. Thirty-five minutes of that and we went to a station that proudly proclaimed itself to be "Your Alternative Music Home," whatever that meant. And then finally when we got out of the Bay Area and into the agricultural region where 580 joins I-5, a county agricultural expert discussing the water situation for next spring's planting.

But by that time it was getting dark and I was getting tired, and I think the long ride was wearing on Lorene and her "condition." The next town was someplace named Santa Nella - a place I had never heard of, and I grew up just over the hills from here, near San Jose.

Santa Nella didn't look like a target-rich environment for budget lodgings. We saw a sign for a Best Western but I thought it might be a little - or a lot - more expensive than what I was hoping to pay. But then the nice older woman at the desk had seen my truck when drove up, and she took a look at Lorene - and Lorene's stomach - and "found" a room that was probably $30 less than the regular rate.

Then she said, "If your hungry there's Pea Soup Andersen's across the road." Then she added, "The food's good and it's not real expensive." She understood.

We grabbed our stuff out of the truck and came back in and went to our room, which was only two rooms down the hall from Reception. It wasn't a luxury suite by any means but it was larger and nicer than I ever expected for what the lady charged me, and it looked like it had been redone lately. It had a real nice bathroom with a vanity and sink outside and another sink inside, and the new-looking bathtub had a rainfall-type shower that would probably feel really nice after the long day of driving.

What also looked inviting was the king-sized bed. And I wondered - since this is probably going to be our - Lorene's and my - last night together, are we going to...?

We washed up quickly and Lorene used the toilet and we walked across the parking lot and the road to the restaurant. Turns out it had some kind of Danish connection,. There were lots of red and white Danish flags and kitschy Danish decorations, but the menu looked looked right for what we wanted. We decided to split a bread bowl of their "famous" pea soup and an order of allegedly Danish meatballs - I guess it's the pork-beef mix that makes them "Danish." The eager young woman who was our server assured us that we didn't want to miss the blueberry pie - "... and you gotta get it a la mode!" - so we shared a slice of that, too.

Because we were farther south and well inland from the chilly, damp coast, it was actually pretty nice when we finished dinner, so we took advantage of the relatively mild evening to walk a little. I asked if she was looking forward to getting to her friend's, in Oceanside, and she said yes, but also, she didn't say it with a lot of excitement. And she asked if I was looking forward to seeing my friend Richie, and what would he and I do when I got there, and I realized that I didn't know what to tell her.

And while we were walking our arms or sometimes shoulders would bump against each other, and it would have been natural for one of us to reach over and grasp the other one's hand. But for some reason I never took Lorene's hand, and although we were that close, she never made any move to take mine. I guess I'll leave it up to you to figure out why.

While the weather was nice than what we'd experienced when we were along the coast, it was still November and after dark, so we decided that we'd had enough walking and headed back to our motel - and our nice room. And whatever we'd end up doing there.

What we did was, we turned on the TV and found a hospital show that we both liked, and then stayed tuned for the cop show that came right after it.

And then it was time for bed. In our three nights together Lorene and I seem to have worked out a fairly comfortable routine. She gets her toiletry stuff out of her bags and the Seahawks jersey that's been serving as her nightshirt and heads into the bathroom, and while she's showering and brushing her teeth and stuff I unpack the few things I'll need to wear for the next day's drive.

Tonight she seemed to stay in the shower a long time, and it got me wondering if she normally showers every night, and if she always takes this long? Or was this a special treat for her, to be able to have the time for a nice, long shower, with enough warm water? In one way, I hoped it was. For some reason I couldn't quite explain, I wanted this, this time with me, to be nice for her, to be special somehow - and maybe leave her with nice memories of her time with me.

Why the heck am I thinking about things like this?

Anyhow, she came out and I went in and turned on the shower. And I have to admit - I don't normally shower every day or night. I know that if my trip to LA had gone like I planned, heck, I might not have even showered 'til I got to Richie's.

But now, with a "roommate" - a female roommate - somehow I felt like I ought to, I don't know, somehow show a little more attention to my... grooming.

And thinking about it, I feel better that I did.

And that got my mind thinking about... about how, now that we're both showered and ready for bed, about whether we're going to...

But before I could do anything Lorene said, "Paul..."

And the way she said it, it had that tone like she was about to apologize for something, although I couldn't imagine what she had that needed an apology.

"Paul, I don't think we should do... anything... tonight."

Okay, that's not what I was expecting her to say, but...

"And it's not like I haven't liked what... what we've done the last three nights," and she paused, almost like she was thinking to herself, and I could see a tear forming in the corner of her right eye.

"What I mean is, I think that doing something now, I mean tonight,... would just make it that much harder when... you know..."

Yeah, I knew. I hadn't thought about it - that. But, yeah, I knew.

I held out my arms and she stepped into them, and we stood there holding each other for maybe a minute, my face buried in that soft, kinky, rust-colored hair for what was probably the last time. Then both of us let go, and we both tried to get on with things and set aside the words we'd just said.

I went to "my" side of the bed and she went to "hers." We turned off the bedside lamps, and I got in on my side and she got in on hers. And we both laid there like that, like we had when we got in.

And just when that was starting to feel weird I felt the bed shift, and Lorene scooted across the king-sized bed and snuggled her back up against me, and I felt the soft skin, and felt the warmth, and I put my arm over her and she put her and over my hand that was holding her, and I smelled the scent of her shampoo and felt the soft, kinky hair against my face, and realized that it would be the last time...

I'd set the clock radio early enough to be sure that we could get Lorene to her friends' and get me back to Richie at a decent hour. As we were packing up our stuff - the last time together - Lorene asked if she could keep the Seahawks jersey I'd lent her as a "dressing gown" and to sleep in, "'Cause, well - you know..."

And, yes, I did know.

Last night Lorene had called her friend Glynnis - I had her use my phone just in case her asshole ex-boyfriend was somehow monitoring hers - and told her where we were and how long thought it would take us and when we'd be getting there, and Glynnis told Lorene where we should get off I-5 and how to drive the last mile and a half to hers and Darrel's home.

And like you'd imagine, our drive was pretty subdued. For both of us, I think we both had the sense that this was the end of one period in our lives, and that in a few hours we would be starting on a new one, one that each of us hoped would lead to something better.

We got off the interstate a few times, to stretch our legs and to pee, and once at an In-N-Out Burger to grab what was probably the best lunch of the entire trip. Occasionally one of us would comment on something we saw along the road, or some sign. But mostly, we didn't say anything - just listened to the radio and the stations that were coming out of Bakersfield and LA, and then, the closer we got, to San Diego.

We finally found exit 53 that GPS said was our exit. Lorene used my phone to call her friend - Glynnis - and let her know where we were. We turned right and started following the directions that Lorene's friend had given her, and in two minutes we were in the general vicinity of her friend's home.

I say "general vicinity," because the first time I didn't see the house number we were looking for and drove past the place. But then when we passed Lorene spotted the number on the other side of their mailbox so I turned around in someone's driveway and we went back to Glynnis's place.

Glynnis was stepping out of the house as I turned in, and Lorene was out of my truck the second it came to a stop. And it was pretty much as I'd expected, with them running up to each other and hugging each other, and then Glynnis patting Lorene's belly and laughing, and then hugging again.

I got out and went around and got Lorene's duffel bag out of the camper top and carried it to the front door. A stocky, solid-looking guy who introduced himself as Darrell held the door open for me and took the duffel and shook my hand, and he thanked me for bringing Lorene here to them.

"Glynnie's been worried sick the past few months, worrying about Lorene and... Well, she's here now, right?"

So after all the goodbyes I got in the truck and started it up. I checked the rearview mirror to make sure nothing was behind me, then looked out front one last time as Lorene went in. And as I watched Lorene disappear into the house, Glynnis, who had been holding the door for her, turned toward me, and I could see her mouth form the words, "Thank you!"

I pulled over and took out my phone and called Richie and told him I was just leaving and that I'd be at his house in about an hour and a half, then pulled back onto the street, and in another five minutes I was back on the Interstate.

~ ~ ~ ~

It's been six years now.

Yes, like I'd planned, I started working with my old friend Richie's event lighting company, and in a few years it - we - were doing so well that another company that was kind of like Richie's but did sound systems wanted to get together with ours. So now business is good - real good. We do lighting and sound for events - not the really big stuff, like the Colosseum or the Center or Hollywood Bowl, but smaller venues and neighborhood fairs and big corporate events, things like that. And Richie and Javi - Javiar, Richie's new partner - want to keep me so they've offered me a chance to buy into the company if I want to (I haven't decided yet).

And, yeah, I'm married. Richie's girlfriend-now-wife, Melissa, got Sarah and me together, and she's terrific, and being with her now more than makes up for all those years when I didn't have a girl in my life.

And she's pregnant. I guess now "we" are supposed to say "we're pregnant" to show that we are enlightened and "woke" and that "we" are together in this. Except that we are not the ones who were nauseous almost every day for four weeks, and we are not the ones with the aching back (although "we" do enjoy the foot rubs for "our" sore, swollen feet). Sarah's well into her seventh month now.

About where Lorene was. That miserable night when I picked her up, soaked and forlorn, from the side of that rain-slicked road. And every now and then, when I look at Sarah just the right way, I can almost see Lorene, the way she looked that night in the little cottage at that backroad motor court (although Sarah's expanding breasts are nowhere close to pregnant Lorene's!).

And I hope that she is well, and that maybe she's with a guy who treats her well and doesn't abuse her and who appreciates her gentle, loving ways... and that maybe she even has a new baby - or two - from a good man who loves her.

And I wondered if she still had my - "our" - Seattle Seahawks jersey that I let her wear, all those years ago. And every now and then, when I'm lying there snuggled-in behind Sarah and our baby that's growing inside her, I can still feel Lorene's pale, soft skin and the scent of her hair, and I can almost hear her voice as it's saying "Thank you, Paul."