Ten Degrees And Getting Colder

Ten Degrees and Getting Colder Jeff Exilimar jeff_exilimar@yahoo.com

Thirty-six hours to drive from San Francisco to Chicago. Only a crazy person would attempt that, unless something great was waiting on the other end. Like signing a fifteen million dollar ad contract with S*Mart eleven months into his tenure at the agency. But he couldn't draw on the expense account yet; he was still technically a freelancer. He couldn't afford a last-minute flight into O'Hare so here he was flying down I-80 on the table flat plains of Nebraska. But God was not cooperating with his chance to break into the top-tier of advertising representation as a new competitor was added to his race against the clock. A blizzard was headed south out of Alberta and across Montana and the Dakotas.

Forty miles east of Omaha Walt Altman began to think he wasn't going to make it. The wind came out of nowhere and his windscreen suddenly began to resemble his TV after not paying up his cable bill after those four months. Now he was in a three year old compact Pontiac in unfamiliar territory in dangerous weather and suddenly Chicago could actually wait. He guessed he was about 35 miles out from the next truck stop, travel plaza, or farm town, about an hour, hour and a half in this crazy weather.

Suddenly the Chinook picked up and tossed his little Pontiac to the side. The north wind combined with the ice built up on the highway caused the small car to skitter across the highway and with a puff of white lodge itself in a snowdrift. Walt covered his face with his hands in frustration. He hit his hazard lights and hoped the highway patrol or some passing motorist would stop before he froze to death on the Iowa plain.

Two jerks oblivious to his peril blew right on by, but a few minutes later salvation seemed to appear in the form of a Peterbuilt hauling a half load of GTO's east. It slowed down and pulled off in front of him. As unexpected as that was, it was far less so when the driver walked out from behind the trailer. Five foot eight, auburn hair, and certain ways the jump suit stretched in places let Walt know that the nametag 'Talia' did probably in fact belong to the woman standing in the snow before him.

"No chains?", she asked?

"Um... no... I didn't expect... I mean I live in California."

"Well, it's a better excuse than 'left them at home'"

"I'm, I was in a hurry. I guess I'm in trouble now."

"We'll see."

Talia attached the winch chain to his Pontiac, bending over provocatively as she did it, at least to Walt. The motor whined and the light car emerged from the still soft snowdrift. Walt and Talia moved so they could see it's front end.

"Um... I don't know much about cars but that doesn't look right.", Walt observed.

"About nine degrees out of true. This car ain't turning right and has a new top speed of about twelve miles an hour."

Talia began to draw the winch up, pulling the car up onto the lower deck of the car carrier.

"What are you doing?", Walt asked.

"Giving you a lift. I'm half empty and you probably didn't plan on making a career change to 'popsicle'."

As he climbed into the cab Walt muttered "If I can't rent a car and be in Chicago by five tonight, it might be the only job offer I'll get."

An hour and a quarter later the rig pulled into the travel plaza, all aglow with red "NO VACANCY" signs as unwary travelers sought protection from the snow. Walt and Talia walked into the restaurant at the Sailing K. They ordered their food and Talia got up.

"I've got to take four hours minimum of downtime. So I'm going to take a shower in the trucker's area. Here's a pass. They'll let you in. Eighteen hours in a car isn't fun. I know."

Walt went into the shower that reminded him of a small version of his old gym's set up, a large tiled room with beige painted seven-foot partitions between stalls. Being in the company of a nice looking girl made him swing into the small store for some shampoo. He washed his hair and used the remainder to lather up and wash off.

He dried and dressed and arrived just as the waitress was laying out their meal. He picked at the salad until Talia walked up, cleaned up, and looking quite attractive in a new jumpsuit. The two ate while the wind swirled the snow about outside, Walt telling her about his transcontinental trip and big plans if the Excelsior Rent-A-Car could help him out. Talia however was more reserved, talking generally about the open road and working for Burger Trucking as a subcontractor for GM, but she didn't seem to have much interest in talking about herself, making her very mysterious to Walt.

The waitress cleared their plates and let them know that there was a one-and-a-half hour limit in the restaurant, storm or no storm. Walt tried to press the issue, but the waitress made it clear: Talia had brought him in, she could deal with him... out of the restaurant.

The pair paid their bill, leaving nothing as a tip, and walked through the storm to Talia's truck.

"I've got to take a nap, I think." Talia said and pulled back the curtain to the sleeper section of her truck. "You can wait in her, up front. I'll delay just long enough to see you get into the rental place. Ok?"

"Ok."

Talia hopped back in the back and pulled the curtain shut. There was some rustling then the main light went out, letting only a slight soft glow emanate from behind the curtain in the back. Walt settled in for a nap himself in the awkward position of the cab's passenger seat.

Walt, in his light, discomfited sleep woke suddenly to the loud noise. Moaning loudly, as if in great pain, came from the rear of the truck. Walt listened carefully, trying to decide if this could be normal or if Talia was actually in pain behind the curtain. Finally a distinctly exclaimed "No!" from the rear of the cab motivated Walt. He pushed apart the curtain to find himself staring into Talia's eyes. She was frightened, woken from some kind of horrible dream, he surmised, her hair tussled and eyes as big as saucers.

"Talia, are you alrig..."

Walt's question trailed off as he panned down Talia's body. Uncomfortable in the jumpsuit she had stripped naked for her nap. The lines of her beautiful body were laid before Walt. Her wonderfully shaped bosom. The trim waistline. The toned hips and thighs. The eight-inch penis.

Walt blinked once. Twice. After the third time his mind started moving again. After the fourth blink he realized he was still staring at Talia's organ. His head quickly snapped up and back to her face.

"I... oh geez... gods, I'm sorry. You were making a lot of noise, then you screamed 'No!' and... I only wanted to make sure you weren't..."

Talia began to shake, then frantically tried to find something to cover up with, but all the bedding and her jump suit had been pushed down by her feet. She grew more and more frantic until she started to cry.

Walt, still not thinking quite too quickly, moved next to Talia and put his arms around her. He kept telling her he was sorry, that it was ok, that it was an accident. Talia squirmed in his arms crying, then emotionally exhausted she collapsed, letting herself rest against Walt's chest. Walt began to stroke her hair as she lied against him. Talia looked up and kissed Walt unexpectedly, passionately.

Walt felt her warm lips on his, and moving as if on it's own one of his hands cupped a firm breast as they kissed, his fingers gently caressing the nipple. As her hands started wrapping around his shoulders, his other hand started caressing her body. Caught up in the emotions of the moments, he moved as if there was nothing different in this situation. He was surprised when Talia gasped and realized his hand was gently massaging her scrotum. He began to play with her, kissing her neck as his hand moved between her legs.

Walt was surprised when she moved away from him, then was startled again when Talia began to unbutton his pants. He lifted up so she could slide them off, then removed his shirt. As it came over his head he let out a gasp of pleasure. Looking down he saw Talia had taken his penis into her mouth, sucking on it gently. He moved his hands down and ran his fingers through her hair as she suckled on his swelling rod.

As Talia pulled off of him to catch her breath, Walt grabbed her ankles and guided her legs out beside him. She wrapped her tongue around his penis again while Walt's hand wrapped around her own organ. Walt watched as her mouth moved up and down his shaft but slowly grew more fascinated by the hardening rod in his own hand. With every gentle stroke between his digits the flesh and muscle seemed to grow firmer. Suddenly Talia gasped as curiosity won out and Walt took the now engorged shaft of her into his mouth. His passion was overwhelming and as he sucked on his new loves rod, she was unable to return the favor due to her cries of ecstasy and his own enthusiasm. Finally it was too much and Walt felt a sticky, salty fluid fill his mouth. The hardened flesh he'd been sucking on began to soften. He pulled off of Talia and looked down at her.

Talia nodded, somehow sensing the question in his face. She rolled over on her stomach and reached into a small cabinet and withdrew a small tube. Walt took the bottle and straddled Talia's hips. Coating his penis with the lubricant, he then positioned it at the opening of her anus. Suddenly he pushed into her, the cab filling with the low sounds of their moans of pleasure. When he had finally fully penetrated her rear, he reached around her body, taking a breast in one hand and her organ in the other. Resting on her back to give Talia a moment to get used to him filling her bottom, Walt nibbled on her ear.

Slowly Talia began to pump her hips, causing Walt's organ to slightly move against her tightly stretched ring. He began to flex his own hips making the movements longer and more pleasurable. His kisses on her ears, neck, and back were exciting. His hands were doing wonders on her breast and penis, and when Walt finally started moving all his length in and out of her, Talia felt like she was wrapped in pure ecstasy. Finally Walt's hands tensed on her body and she felt a warm, wet sensation fill her insides. She looked back into the face of the now collapsed Walt covering her back and kissed him gently.

Walt's office is a busy place. He is known as a hard worker willing to go to any length for his contracts. A story of meteoric rise in his ad firm, he works long hours Monday through Friday. But at the end of Friday, he drives down to the dockyards to meet a load of cars bound for Australia and Monday morning he makes sure Philadelphia has a driver to deliver their sports cars.

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