A Real Goode Time

by Jasinda Wilder

She was sleeping. Her head rested against the pillar near the seat belt, the end of her braid laying on her shoulder. Mouth slightly open. Hands tucked between her thighs.

  This was sweet, innocent Torie. Looking at her like this made my heart do melting flips, which was confusing because I’d never felt this way about anyone before.

  How can I leave her? That thought ran through my head, back and forth, again and again,

  as I drove, putting miles behind us, trying in vain to forget that little motel room where I’d gotten my first taste of the most magical woman I’d ever encountered.

  Scenes from the night before and this morning ran through my head.

  Torie, sleepy, erotic hunger blazing in her eyes. Reaching under the waistband of my underwear, grasping me. Taking me in her mouth, taking me to heights of ecstasy I’d never experienced before. Writhing under my mouth, her spine arched to press her slit into my tongue.

  I wondered if she realized she’d squirted. I’d heard about that, of course, seen it on the internet, but I always figured it was some exaggerated, scripted porn thing.

  But, no.

  She’d squirted all over my hands. Not enough that there’d been a wet spot on the bed, and she may not have even noticed with how far gone into orgasmic bliss she’d been.

  Fuck, so hot.

  I needed to stop thinking about this shit or I’d get myself all worked up again. I needed to get my shit together and really figure things out.

  But then…what was there to figure out?

  I wanted her.

  I wanted to sleep with her.

  I wanted to be with her.

  I wanted to bend her over the bed and fuck her until she lost her damned mind. I wanted to make slow sweet gentle love to her, something I’d never wanted or done with anyone.

  I wanted it all, with her. And only her. I wanted to dive into everything she was as a person and never come back up.

  That scared me shitless, absolutely shitless.

  We passed by Chicago, hitting a brief slowdown in traffic right outside the city, and Torie kept sleeping.

  And I kept waffling.

  How can I leave her?

  What right did I have to take her virginity, and then just casually go back to my life in Connecticut? She said she didn’t want her first experience of sexual intercourse to be casual, one-time. And maybe if we did have sex, it wouldn’t be casual, and definitely not just once, because I knew once I got inside her, I’d need her as many times as I could get her. But still, it was not what she wanted.

  Which begged the question, what did she want? She said she didn’t expect it to be love, but what was there that was less than love and more than casual?

  It made me think maybe she was avoiding what she really did want, which was love, and she was just scared of actually allowing herself to want it.

  And if that was the case, sleeping with her would be a massive mistake for both of us. I probably shouldn’t have let anything happen at all. But it was done and I had no regrets. But shit, I wanted more. So much more.

  And if I let it happen, I risked breaking her heart.

  And mine.

  Yeah, mine too.

  “Deep in thought, there, are you?” Torie’s voice was sleepy and amused, startling me.

  I jumped, laughing. “Holy shit, you scared me.”

  “I’ve been awake and watching you for like, ten or fifteen minutes. I think you’re driving on autopilot.”

  I chuckled, rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess. Just thinking.”

  She sat up, rubbed her eyes. Stretched—and damn, the sight of her stretching was distracting enough that I had to force my eyes away or risk a wreck. “Feel like talking about it?”

  I shrugged, sighed. “I dunno. You?”

  She glanced away. “Honestly? No, not yet.”

  I laughed and sighed. “Good, me either.”

  Torie was looking out the window and she said, “Where are we?”

  “Just outside Chicago.”

  She looked back at me. “You want to switch?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, actually.”

  We ended up driving to the next exit with food. This time we went in—another fast food joint with burgers and milkshakes. With the topic at hand weighing heavily, we were pretty quiet, suppressing any idle chitchat.

  We finished our lunch, used the restrooms, gassed up and rolled back onto the freeway, and I let myself doze off.

  Dozing turned to actually sleeping, and when I woke up I realized I’d missed most of Wisconsin. We pulled onto the shoulder and put the top up since it was actually getting hot, and then continued on. I put on some classic rock, which was what I’d been raised on, and which Torie had said she and her dad listened to in their garage.

  She shot me a look when “Paint it Black” was the first song on queue. “Are you playing classic rock for me?”

  I laughed. “Yes I am. Growing up, it was what pretty much everyone listened to. Zeppelin, the Stones, ZZ Top, Pink Floyd, The Who. The only local radio station we got was a classic rock station, so my truck was just tuned it all the time, and so was everyone else’s.”

  She grinned, drumming a beat on the steering wheel. “Jillie and Leighton make fun of me for liking classic rock. Like, could you be any more of a typical stoner? But it’s just…comfortable. Familiar for me. Dad loved it and he used to be in a classic rock band, back in the day.”

  The taut, weighty silence was broken and our natural conversational flow returned, a wide-ranging discussion of classic rock bands, rating them, talking about individual players, guitar styles, and that conversation took us into Minnesota. We stopped in Minneapolis for dinner, and the conversation wandered into random rabbit trails of endless, easy talk.

  As we left the diner, I shot a look at her. “You wanna switch, keep driving, or call it a night here in Minneapolis?”

  She leaned her butt against the hood, considering. “Honestly, I’m not tired at all. That nap was like power fuel or something. I’m good to keep going, if you are.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let me know when you get sleepy.”

  “I will.”

  Onward, then. Silences alternated with conversation and we played a game with the songs on queue, trying to pick the next song based on ever-changing criteria—number one hit that same year, or bands that ended up sharing a member, or words that appeared in both song titles, until we’d covered almost all of classic rock and moved into southern rock and country.

  By the time we reached North Dakota I could tell she was getting tired, but I figured I’d wait for her to call it.

  I was about to suggest a switch, but then she seemed to get a second wind, perking up, finding new energy that took us through half of North Dakota before we had to stop and pee and refuel. She let me take over, then, well past midnight. We’d agreed to keep going until we were both too tired to drive anymore. We both got coffees and snacks and, somehow, despite the seemingly endless hours and miles, we always had something else to talk about.

  We reached the border at Raymond, Montana, and drove over to Regway, Saskatchewan where we talked to the Canadian border agent. We answered a few questions and crossed without issue, but not before Torie got her first stamp in her passport. And just for fun I got one, too. I’d driven up to New Brunswick a few times to get car parts, but I’d never got a stamp in my passport, so it was fun to share a first with Torie.

  Despite the coffee, Torie eventually fell asleep, leaving me to the music and the miles and my thoughts.

  I was glad we’d kept going. I knew we were putting off the inevitable, but neither of us wanted to address the elephant in the Jeep.

  About six a.m., I started yawning uncontrollably, and I needed to stretch my legs and get some air, so I pulled over on the side of the deserted highway just before dawn—when the sky wasn’t quite gray, but not quite light. It was cool, with a sweet smell to the air. The land was very flat where we were, just beyond Regina, a stand of trees here and there, bu
t mostly flat farmland.

  I tried to open the door quietly, but Torie stirred and woke up, smiling sleepily at me—the smile that got my heart every time. It was a smile that said she was just so happy to see me, even though she’d been right next to me in that passenger seat for hours at this point. It just got me, that sleepy little grin.

  She got out of the car and stretched, up onto her toes, arms overhead, shirt lifting to bare her belly and the undersides of her breasts, which trembled as she shook with the force of the stretch.

  “Where are we?” she asked, yawning, her voice muzzy, and something about it felt like the most familiar sound in all the world, somehow.

  “Regina, Saskatchewan, or just past it.” I yawned, then, catching it from her. “We’re more than halfway to Alaska, now.”

  “Rhys…” she started, and then trailed off. She strode out into the grass beyond the shoulder. I followed. “When are you going to turn around?”

  Good question. I picked a long stalk of grass and twisted it in my fingers. “I dunno. Been trying to figure that out, but…”

  Her pale brown eyes searched me. “But what?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said, avoiding the meaning behind her question.

  “No, it’s not. You have to get back to New Haven. You have jobs lined up. Yet here you are in Regina motherfucking Saskatchewan with me. So again, I ask you—how far are you willing to go?”

  I swallowed. Dropped my eyes to the grass—watched a big green grasshopper struggle up a stalk of grass. “I don’t know, Torie. I’ve been thinking about it for hours and I don’t fuckin’ know, okay?” I felt honesty rising in my throat like bile. “The thought of just…leaving you outside a bus station makes my stomach hurt. I just don’t know that I can do that.”

  “I’d be fine if you did, Rhys. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t be fine,” I muttered, more to the grass than her. “I know you’re capable—it’s not about that.”

  She was rocked back by that answer. “Then what’s it about?”

  “It’s about a whole big, deep, hard conversation we’ve been avoiding since fuckin’ Ohio.”

  “Oh.” She kicked at the tall grass, walking away a little bit. “Maybe…maybe we should agree to not…to not do anything for right now. Until we do figure that out.”

  “Yeah, probably a good plan,” I said. “I’m for sure too tired to talk about it right now.” I yawned again. “We should just go back to Regina and crash.”

  She shook her head. “I’m good to go—I’ll stop for gas and coffee at the next stop, but I want to keep going, if you’re okay sleeping in the car again.”

  I nodded. “Fine by me. I’ll put the seat back and crash.”

  She laughed. “Since we’re driving, maybe don’t use the term ‘crash.’”

  “Yeah, good point. Get some sleep, is all I mean.”

  We went back to the Jeep, and continued to the next stop, where I refueled and bought coffees and more snacks. I saved my coffee for after I woke up; it’d be cold by then, but I was accustomed to drinking cold coffee in the shop when I was too busy to make more or reheat it.

  Once we were well on the way, I fell asleep within minutes to the hum of the tires and the low jangle of the classic rock playlist.

  I woke up just outside Saskatoon, drank some coffee and looked over at my driving partner. I could see that Torie was lost in thought, as I’d been when she startled me the day before. We’d been driving without stop for over twenty-four hours.

  “How you doing?” I asked.

  She started, laughed self-consciously. “Got me back,” she breathed, shaking her head. “I’m about ready to hand it over.”

  “You thinking we should keep going? Or grab a motel and rest for the day?”

  She shrugged. “I’m tired, but I’m wired, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, so I guess if you’re game to drive a while, we could keep going and stop early.”

  I didn’t ask the question. Thought it, but didn’t ask it.

  It was another long day on the Canadian prairies. The silence was a little awkward, and it seemed impossible to break. What to say? Where to start?

  So we did the ostrich thing, burying our heads in the metaphorical sand and refusing to address the issue––thus, we didn’t talk much at all. Between the elephant and the ostrich, the Jeep was beginning to look like a zoo.

  Despite her claim, Torie fell asleep. It was better that way.

  She slept through my pit stop for gas and coffee and the restroom.

  She was still sleeping when we drove past Edmonton.

  I was now in the zone, a captive of highway hypnotism. I had the radio off, my window down, arm out. I forgot about being hungry, tired, horny and the issues between us—I was focused on nothing but the drive.

  And Torie slept on. Longer than she’d ever slept since I’d known her—through an entire tank of gas, another cup of coffee and emptied bladder. She was still sleeping when night fell.

  She snored. Real, actual snores. Loud enough to make me laugh every time, because it was so damned cute.

  In the middle of the night, she finally stirred. Blinked awake. “Shit. I slept. Where are we?”

  “You were out for damn near twelve hours.” I pointed out the window at the darkness.

  She blinked again. “Twelve hours?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  She bit her lip and sat upright. “I, um…have to pee.”

  I glanced at the GPS. “Don’t think we’re all that near a stop. How bad?”

  She winced. “Like, pull over right the fuck now.”

  I pointed at the windshield—which was wet, wipers going. “Uh, it’s pouring out.”

  “Well, I’m about to go in my big girl panties in about ten seconds. I’ll just have to get a little hardcore.”

  I glanced at her, and she had her knees pinched hard together and was bouncing in her seat. “Shit, all right. Here we go.”

  I pulled over onto the shoulder and put on the flashers—fortunately, we were in an area with an actual shoulder, a place where the hills approached the mountains, and there wasn’t a car in sight. As soon as we were fully stopped, she threw open the door and leaped out.

  “Shit, it’s really fucking raining!” she yelled, then glanced at me. “This is gonna be an eyeful for you, Rhys.”

  And right there in the relative lee of the open door, rain spattering the seat and the door and the inside of the Jeep, she dropped her jeans and kicked off one leg, moving with desperate, jerky speed, held them out of the way, and squatted.

  “Don’t watch,” she muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “No it ain’t,” I said, even as I looked out the other side.

  I heard her peeing, though, and it was a little weird. Intensely personal, hearing her pee hit the grass in a very, very long stream.

  Finally, she stood up and leapt into the Jeep and shut the door, her jeans and underwear half on and half off. She was dripping wet and soaked through from spending mere moments outside. She just sat on the seat, half-dressed, a blank expression on her face.

  And then she started laughing, hysterical and unhinged. “I really just have the worst luck with rain, don’t I?” The laughter died, and she started putting her jeans and thong back on, but they were wet from being in the rain. She glanced at me. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be super mad if I just…didn’t put my pants back on?”

  I couldn’t help but look at her—we were still stopped, flashers on, so I took my time looking her over. Nothing on but a wet T-shirt, and that was sticking to her, highlighting her curves.

  I swallowed hard. “Uh, no. Nope. Wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t put pants back on.” In the interest of keeping to our agreement of not touching each other, I turned off the flashers and checked over my shoulder for traffic before accelerating onto the highway again. “I mean, shit, you wanna just take off your shirt too, I’d be all right with that.” />
  She kicked her jeans off with her toes and then tugged her thong off and tossed both behind her onto the back seat. “Just…buck naked in the car?” she asked, an eyebrow quirked, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

  I nodded, shrugged. “Middle of the night, middle of nowhere, got three-quarters of a tank of gas.” I gestured at her. “Strip down if you want. Can’t guarantee I won’t be stealing looks at you, but I’ll do my damnedest to keep my hands to myself and keep driving.”

  “If I’m naked, you’re allowed to look.” She swallowed hard, ducked her head. “I like the way you look at me.” A long hesitation. “I like the way you touch me.”

  I gripped the steering wheel hard, yanking the shifter down into fourth and then slamming it up into fifth as I reached the speed limit. “We agreed we wouldn’t touch each other until we had a chance to figure things out.”

  She peeled her shirt off, setting her tits free with a bounce and a sway, and then I had myself a naked Torie in my Jeep—and a hell of a hard-on.

  I clutched the shifter so hard I heard the plastic creak in protest.

  I had to focus on the road, dammit. But there she was, naked. Thighs splayed just enough to give me a teasing glimpse at her core, thin pink outer lips and protruding delicate clitoris, just fucking begging for me to pull over, lean my seat back, and sit her on my face so I could make her scream.

  Never been attracted to a vagina itself, before. The woman attached to it, sure, but—perhaps oddly—I’ve never really spent too much time examining a girl’s hoo-ha in detail. More focused on getting inside it, touching it to make her feel good.

  But Torie? Even her pussy was a delicate, pink blossom of sensual beauty.

  God, I was in trouble.

  I had to turn the music up in an attempt to distract myself. Telling her she could be naked had been a mistake. I was not strong-willed enough, not by a long damn shot.

  “You all right?” I heard her ask, turning the music back down.

  I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Yep.”

  “Why do I not believe you?”

  I sighed, laughed ruefully. “I’m an idiot, that’s why.”

  She frowned at me. “Why do you say that?”