Christmas is a difficult day for me. I have no family. My parents passed long ago. I was an only child, so no siblings. Divorced and without children makes for a very quiet holiday season. I always have plenty of invitations from friends, neighbors, and acquaintances when they hear I’m alone. I’m just not interested. It sounds sad, but it isn’t. I enjoy the solitude after a long month of travel for work. I’m off until after New Year’s and I always find something fun to do.
I had no interest in chores or cooking while I was home. Nor did I want to go to one of the few local pubs or restaurants that might be open on Christmas day. I quickly became bored sitting home. Doing something different was the order of the day. After a full week of flying to five cities in five days last week, sex was nonexistent. There was the occasional quick self-satisfaction rubdown in the hotel room while I was traveling before bed. It just isn’t the same as having a man or a woman make love to me.
A short road trip, something I’ve wanted to do for a while but, I never seem to find the time. Where though? It is Christmas Day. What is open for business? Which vehicle should I take, the BMW z4 or the Ford F-350? One is a tiny sports car convertible that, if I do say so, I look damn hot in that car. By Florida standards, it is chilly out so the top would have to stay up. The F-350 was my choice for my trip. I call it “The Beast.” It is like driving my living room around. When I climb out of it I usually get looks and an occasional comment from men calling me a babe in the truck.
Now I needed a destination. I am just going to get in The Beast and start to drive. Should I go north, south, or east? Fortunately, the west is not an option because I would wind up in the Gulf of Mexico. I used a scientific way to decide; I took three playing cards and wrote N, S, and E on them. Then I threw them in the air. I would do this until one card was different from the other two. That would be the direction I would drive. East was the winner.
Head to Orlando, Disneyworld, and Epcot Center… kids and crowds, no way! Where else but Daytona Beach for a few days? Yes! A fun place to go, with plenty of bars, clubs, and restaurants. If it warms up a little, a day on the beach will be on my agenda. If it stays warm, a forty-five-minute drive south to Apollo Beach, one of the better nude beaches in Florida, will require my presence.
I packed a few things in my well-used travel bag and started my journey across the state. Driving on I-4 is usually a grueling event. Traffic was light. I guess everyone that had somewhere to be was there already. After all, it was Christmas day. It made the drive pleasant. The Beast needed to be fed. I decided to stop at one of the truck stops along the Interstate. I don’t drive my truck too often and these places have plenty of room to maneuver The Beast. I topped the tank and then pulled into a parking spot so I could go inside and get a cup of tea for the road.
The store was packed with truck drivers from all over the country. I thought to myself that it must be a lonely existence being a long-haul trucker, away from home during the Christmas holiday. I noticed that several men were looking me over. This was exciting that they noticed me. I was wearing a short sundress. As usual, I did not have on a bra or panties. Too restrictive. I started to pour my tea at the self-serve counter when a decent-looking man struck up a conversation with me.
He was big and looked like a lumberjack with gray hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache and beard to match. I was surprised at how eloquent he was. Being a corporate attorney, I’ve never had an opportunity to have a conversation with someone who makes his living driving an eighteen-wheeler. He was fascinating, telling me about life on the road. He gave me a tour of the truck stop that so many use as a temporary home. Not only can you buy fuel, coffee, and snacks, but there is a full restaurant and buffet. The facility has a huge driver’s lounge, a game room, and private showers for professional drivers to use. I had no idea.
In our conversation, I told him that our careers are not very different and that I spend most of my time traveling. He laughed and said that he was sure our accommodations were probably very different. I smiled, just a little embarrassed. He was correct. I fly everywhere, stay in very comfortable hotels, and eat in some of the finest establishments in the country. Something about this stranger was captivating. I know this makes me sound like such a snob. He was educated, maybe not in the formal sense like I was but, he certainly was not what I would have expected from a truck driver.
We were walking around the building and we never knew each other’s names. Finally, I introduced myself. He smiled and let me know his name was Brian. He was based out of Ontario, Canada. The only thing that ran through my mind was, I knew it. He was a lumberjack. So silly. As we walked around, he was telling me about spending six to ten weeks at a time on the road. It sounded difficult. I asked if it got uncomfortable. His response was surprising. A resounding no. He described his truck. It sounded like an expensive motor home. Then, he invited me to see it. I had no schedule and no place to be, so I happily agreed.
Hundreds of trucks were parked, rows lined up in straight formation as if waiting to attack. The colors and sizes were impressive. After passing at least fifty trucks, we came to a powder blue rig with a red Peterbilt emblem on the hood. This thing was massive. It was attached to a very long trailer. It was loaded with, what else? Lumber! I asked if I could see the inside. Brian was more than happy to give me a tour. As I climbed up the passenger side, he was kind enough to help me up. I am sure he was able to take a peek up my dress. His strong hand grabbed me by the ass, squeezed it, and hurled me up in the cab. As he touched me, I became aroused.
It is rare, but the last thing on my mind when I stopped for fuel was sex. Less than an hour later, I was in the cab of a truck with a Canadian hunk hoping that he noticed that I had no panties on underneath my dress. Brian walked around his rig and climbed on the driver’s side. He didn’t sit in the seat, though. He continued past me between the seats into the back of his truck.