Sally was cleaning up at Shepherd's Bar, a roadhouse out on Rt 62. It was past closing time, but she knew there was a party outback because the real money was after hours. So long as things stayed quiet the cops wouldn't pay attention, for the very good reason that the Sheriff was likely to be there. But Shepherd's everybody saw, so it had to close and she was head of the closing crew. She wiped down the counters and watched the yellow light above the door. It had been a quiet night, really, only a couple of the men had grabbed her ass, and she'd been able to free herself with a curt look. Sometimes they acted like she was one of the girls who worked the building with the red light out behind the garage. She wasn't one of those girls, never would be, and resented them thinking that.

Not that they might not have had a bit of encouragement. Sally was pretty, a lean girl with small lips, blonde hair, and a sprinkling of freckles that made her seem like the girl next door. She'd learned that the tips were better if she wore tight clothing, so her jeans hugged her full bottom. Her checked blouse fit tight with just enough buttons undone to offer a hint of cleavage. Brown cowboy boots with heels and a wide leather belt finished her ensemble. She'd drawn eyes and her tips were good that night. A Saturday night with good tips and only a few butt squeezes was a good night. She knew her cat would be waiting at her apartment, wanting some cuddle time. She stacked up the chairs, made sure the lights were out, and let herself out the back door to walk across the truck lot to her truck

"Hey honey," called a feminine voice to her right. She looked over and saw a big blue Freightliner with the driver's window open. Someone took a long puff on a cigarette, only, the smell was too sweet for tobacco. The person puffing on it was a short-haired woman. She'd been in the bar for a while earlier, and Sally remembered serving her Stroh's. She was nice looking too, short dark hair, no makeup, and loose clothing to hide her figure, but Sally had remembered her.

"You're Billie, right?" Sally said. She'd tipped her well, not too well, but well enough, and had made a couple of good jokes when Sally had a moment.

"Yeah, you remembered. Must be hard to remember people when you have so many."

"They say I have a talent for names. But you'd have stood out. I've seen you here every few weeks. I'd heard girls had started driving but hadn't met any drivers yet."

"Girl, it's 1972. The world is changing, and it's changing for us." Billie took another puff. "Looks like you had a long night."

"It wasn't so bad. Pretty decent night actually.”

"Some of those guys had their hands all over that pretty little ass of yours."

"That's every night around here. They weren't too bad. Just a squeeze is all they wanted," Sally replied.

"You like giving them one?" Billie looked quizzical.

"No, but I like it when they tip well. If a squeeze nets me a couple of extra bucks then I'll take it."

Billie nodded and lifted up a beer. "Surprised you haven't got a boyfriend picking you up at this hour?"

"Because I haven't got a boyfriend," Sally spat out like she was both proud and disappointed at the same time.

"That's a shock, pretty as you are."

"Maybe I haven't met a man around here I want to be with."

Billie laughed. "I've seen some of your choices. They tried buying me drinks too."

Sally smiled. "I saw you sitting alone all night. Didn't look like you wanted a man."

"Oh, I wanted company, just not them."

"What kind of company were you looking for?"

"Someone different. Come on up and take a load off. You look like you could use a break. I have a couple of beers and some Hank Williams eight-tracks."

Sally thought for a moment. She could go home to her cat and watch the late, late movie on Channel 43. She decided she'd seen enough commercials for the Chrysler Cordoba. "Maybe I will. Got any more smoke?"

"Got enough," Billie said with a grin. She shifted over to unlock the door.

Sally went around, grabbed onto the handle and step, and hoisted herself up into the cab, taking a quick moment to check herself in the mirror. Then slipped inside, sitting on the seat, the thick console between them, sort of armor if she needed distance. But the sleeper was behind them and the curtains were open.

It's not like there was a lot going on around town. Emeryville was built around the local Baptist Church, Wooler's IGA, and the diner. A couple of homes. A place where the only strangers were the drivers out on 62. Sally knew she was... different. She'd dated boys, even balled a couple, but really none had stuck. She knew she was twisted, and there wasn't much hope out in Marin County of a girl like her. Or a boy either.

Davey Willers had gotten himself dragged last year for about four miles by a couple of toughs. Drew not a line in the local paper outside of his six-line obituary. Not much left of Davey either. She looked over at the trucker. She had a pretty smile and a woman's full chest. Maybe Billie was a little twisted too. And not local. Billie was safe from the rumor mill. It would be nice to spend a little time with a fellow traveler. Billie pulled another beer out of her cooler, popped the top, and handed the can over. Sally took it and lifted it so they could tap their beers together then took a sip. She didn't really like beer all that much, but it was cold and it was nice to be off her feet.

"You from around here?" asked Billie.

"All my life." Sally took another sip.

Billie shoved in an eight-track so music filled the cab, then took out a plastic bag full of pot and started cleaning it, gathering papers to roll up a jay.

"I'm from Chicago. Good Catholic girl, too. Mom and Dad wanted me to be a nun. And I was thinking about it, but a priest sort of shatted my illusions of the Church."

Sally could guess what she meant and decided to say nothing. 

"It's life," Billie said, rolling out the tight joint then extending her tongue to slowly lick along the adhesive edge to activate it. "I dealt with it, went to college, got a degree in art, but couldn't get a decent job with an art degree. So I decided I'd try trucking. They have to hire some girls to show how accepting they are, so why not get in on the ground floor? They promised I would see the whole country," she added with a laugh, then lifted the joint to her lips to light it, taking a deep puff before handing it over.

Sally touched her fingers as she took the joint, pressed it to her lips, and sucked in a deep breath, holding it there until she almost coughed it out, then passed it back. Billie took another puff, then turned it around. "Shotgun?" she asked.

Sally nodded. Billie wrapped her lips around the joint and their eyes met as she blew the reefer smoke into Sally's mouth. Sally took a deep breath and held it, feeling the tingling in her temple. Billie had brought good pot, better than she'd been able to score locally. Probably because Sheriff Archer didn't want any hippie stuff in Marin County. No sir, Marin was a good God-fearing county and we get our buzz from a jar. Or a can.

Sally took another sip as she felt the buzz glow and fill her body with the sticky warmth she knew. Sure, the good old boys knew how to find reefer, but they wanted something, something she wasn't willing to give. Of course, she wasn't pregnant either, like all the waitresses she'd started with three years ago. Granted three were married. But Beth wasn't. Her beau was missing somewhere in Laos. She sat in her seat thinking listening to Hank Williams croon, watching the shrinking joint glow brightly as Billie sucked on it. She took another drink, let the beer coat her tongue, and looked out across the golden lights of the truck lot.

"Have you seen much of the country?"

"Lots of roads and truck stops. Not so much of the good stuff. Plus a few of the local girls." Billie let those words hang in the air, and that made Sally sure the trucker "went to her church" as they say.

"You know they also serve girls at the red light house," Sally regretted opening her mouth the moment she'd said it.

There was a long silence in the cab. "Maybe I don't want to get served," Billie said, a little sadly. "You ever go in there?"

"No," Sally said, shaking her head for emphasis. "I don't need that reputation. I have to live here."

"Do you?" Billie asked. "It's easier in the cities for people like us, there's always a bar somewhere that caters to women with a twist. Easier to get lost where there are a lot of people. The problem is figuring out where that special place is. My fellow truckers aren't in on the gay grapevine. And where do I park my rig outside an ordinary bar," she added with a grin.

"I guess that could be a problem," Sally said. "But at least, you bring your motel room with you." She thumbed back at the sleeper.

"I sure do. You ever been in one?"

Sally shook her head. "Not once, though it ain't for lack of trying on the part of the local clientele."

Billie laughed. "I buy that. I bet there wasn't a soul in that bar who didn't want to get you flat on your back."

"Including you?"

The was a pause before Billie replied. "Including me."

Sally didn't say a thing, she could feel the reefer doing its thing. Outside, the golden moon was near full, craters visible on its craggy surface. She took a deep breath. How long had it been, since she'd kissed a girl? Probably back in high school, in the woods at band camp, with Peggy Wilkerson. They had only a few minutes before people came close and scared Peggy off. None since.

Sally had tried to fit in, she really had. Almost married Bobby Sands too. It had come as some relief when he'd been sent to Vietnam, putting off their engagement. Much less relief when he came home in a box. Bobby had been a good, decent boy. The images of his smile plowed through her brain.

Peggy had three kids now, married to a scion of the feed company. Never even gave Sally a glance these days. Sally had enjoyed her taste, maybe it was time to take a bite.

"Maybe it's time I saw what a sleeper is like."

"There's a curtain on the window to your right. Best if you pull it closed. Most the other drivers are passed out or at the after-hours establishment, but can't guarantee they all are."

Sally nodded and pulled the curtain covering her window. Billie took the other side and the windshield. Their fingers touched as they pulled it shut and lingered there for a long moment. Billie looked tough, but she had soft hands, gentle hands, knowing hands. It helped ease the fear, especially when her left hand rose up to cup Sally’s right cheek and turn her head close for a kiss.

Billie had soft lips, soft skin, no scratchy stubble like a man, just smooth and delicious, the liquor and reefer mixing with her breath as they kissed. She felt that kiss to her toes and wondered maybe if it was time to hit the road herself that if girls outside kissed this well, maybe she wasn't meant to live and die in Marin County. As their tongues swirled together, her last resistance melted.

Soft fingers undid her blouse, baring her chest, cupping her right breast and squeezing her nipple tight, rolling and pinching it, making her moan into Billie's mouth. She felt her pussy squeezing and releasing, a warm buttery feeling building inside her. When Billie undid Sally’s jeans she helped, wanting to bare herself, wanting, needing to be taken. Her hands were around Billie's neck, holding the trucker tight to her body, ready.

"Let's get in back," commanded Billie.

She was undoing her own top, pulling it off, showing off a shockingly feminine red bra, releasing her full, heavy breasts then standing to peel down her own jeans, curly bush visible. Sally's mouth watered as she saw another woman bared for her. She pushed off her own boots and her jeans, then peeled down her own panties while Billie slid into the sleeper then reached out to help Sally in after her. It was small for a bed, like the bed she'd slept in as a girl and there was no escaping Billie's touch had she wanted to.

The golden parking lot lights illuminated just enough for her to study Billie, soft, the curve of her hips, her bottom round and full, her breasts heavy, topped with wide areolas and already-hard nipples. Sally was firmer from jogging and her judo classes, but she was the same, breasts smaller, hips slimmer, but the hair and the slit of her mound were almost the same. Almost.

Billie pushed her down on the sleeper bed, leaning over her, her heavy breasts falling down to hers, nipples touching hers making them tingle and her pussy leak. Sally was wet, wetter than she'd ever been and her arms wrapped around Billie's waist to pull the trucker on top of her, to feel the touch of female skin upon her own. Her legs fell open of their own accord and it wasn't long until she felt Billie's fingers on her mound, tracing out her slit, pushing into her, two, no three fingers stretching out her cunt. Sally gasped as the trucker took her, pushing hard, pushing in and out of her quickly then slowing down to press her fingertips into the front wall of her pussy. Touching her, there, yes, right there! It was a spot she didn't know existed, but it was there all right and it set her hips to pumping, pushing up to meet Billie’s fingers, had her moaning into her kiss, cunt squishing as she was taken. Billie pumped her for a while, then slowed down then fast again, sending Billie's pussy into spasms. It was right about then she felt Billie's thumb circling her pearl.

Sally came, just like that, her first orgasm from someone else. It just ripped through her, sent her cunt spasming and she screamed into the kiss which Billie held across her lips. She held her while she came then pulled back and said "Shhhhhh," don't want to wake up the neighbors. Hold your teeth tight for what comes next."

What came next was Billie's tongue sliding up and down, finding a steady pace, more subtle than her fingers. Sally rolled and pumped her hips and her hands found the trucker's hair, holding her head where she wanted, no, needed the woman to be! Up and down, up and down Billie’s knowing tongue explored every cranny of Sally's hungry cunt. She did as Billie asked, clamping her teeth and lips. She whined and she whimpered, the high-pitched sounds rolling through the sleeper, rising above Hank Williams’ sad voice as the tape changed tracks, Sally grinding her pussy into Billie's knowing, perfect mouth. Oh, the woman had the Devil's own tongue, making her rise and fall, making the waves of joy cascade into each other. She felt the juices pouring from her and Billie didn't stop, didn't quit, pushing her tongue deep and then licking her clit while pushing three fingers back inside her. Sally bucked and bucked until she just plain collapsed upon the mattress.

"You aren't done yet," said Billie, spreading her own legs and snaking them between Sally's. She pressed tight until Sally could feel Billie's own sex, wet, shiny, and liquid, warm and delicious pressing against hers. Billie leaned back, pushing hard, pushing against the driver's side of the sleeper, forcing Sally up against the back wall, grinding hard, riding her, cunt to cunt, lip to lip, juices mingling together as they leaked like a fountain down on the bed. Billie’s breasts bounded and slid from side to side as she ground her wet cunt into Sally's and the waitress pushed back, loving the pressure, feeling the passion in her rising and seeing the sweat shining on Billie's skin.

They came as one, trying to be quiet, but not doing particularly well at it. But as they came, Sally felt her cunt go white when she heard Billie cry out, grinding hard, lip to lip with their bodies straining to push as hard as they could. They cried and then slowed as the small after-spasms passed through her flesh.

"You got a tasty pussy, Roadhouse Sally," Billie said and Sally could see her own slime was coating the trucker's lips and cheeks. It was hot, and it made her feel hot, feeling like she'd never felt before.

"Girl, move to the city. There are women there dreaming of you, dreaming of you every night and day." Billie’s chest heaved as she recovered her air, then opened another beer to pass it to Sally who took a long swig of the golden liquid, breathing in herself, glad for the fluids.

"You think so."

"I do. Atlanta is the place for you. You're a good waitress and smart. A woman like you would make a lot more money there. And when you want a date there's a place called Catalus's Dream where you can find a woman who's just like you and me."

“Catalus's Dream,” Sally told herself. "Atlanta's a lot more expensive than life around here."

"Yeah, but you make more, get in a better class of restaurant." Well, there was no arguing that point. The roadhouse was okay, but it was mostly a bar.

"You ever stop in at that bar?" Sally asked, taking another sip of the cold brew.

"Every time I have some time in Atlanta. You go there, we'll hook up. Unless some lucky dyke snags you first."

Sally nodded and slipped from the sleeper, scrambling for her bra.

"Leave your panties," said Billie.

"Okay." Sally smiled back at her as she pulled up her jeans, then leaned over for another long kiss. "You really mean you'll be there?"

Billie laughed. "Oh yeah. Got a few tricks I haven't shown you yet."

"I can't wait." Sally leaned in to kiss her, slow and soft, then slipped from the cab. Outside the crickets were chirping but there weren't many sounds except laughter from the after hours. The red light was still on at the house. She headed over to her Buick, which turned over twice before the starter caught and the engine fired. She took a long look back at the truck and headed off.

Her cat didn't seem to mind that she'd been late and that she fell right into bed. But the next day, Sally bought herself an Atlanta Constitution and started looking. It was time to leave Marin County behind.