Drive Me Home #1

He's been on the road for hours and has another day of driving ahead of him. Her car has broken down and is blocking traffic. When he stops to eat and sleep, she plops down on the other side of the booth and pretends to be his daughter. What does she want and what is she willing to do to get it? Why does she keep calling him Daddy?

This title contains material not suitable for minors.

EXCERPT:

She looked too young to be out on the highway by herself that late at night. When I first saw the car on the shoulder, I was pissed. She was the reason traffic was going so slow. When I saw her tight little butt sticking out from under the hood, I thought that the view rather than the obstacle might be the cause of the slowdown.

I’d been on the road for eleven hours straight and was planning on grabbing some sleep at the next exit. It was a good thing because one look at her ass and I thought, ‘I probably shouldn’t be driving with no blood left in my brain anyway.’ I pulled off the freeway to find a quiet place to sleep. I had booked a room and sat down to eat before she walked in the door of the diner. All eyes were on her as she made her way in. Her eyes darted around looking for a friendly face or someone to help her. I don’t know what made her decide I could be her white knight.

She dropped her bag on the other seat in my booth then slid in after it. “What’s good here?” she asked me.

“I have no idea,” I answered. “Why are you sitting with me?”

A shrug was all I got in response. The waitress came over with a menu and a pitcher of water. “How are you doing tonight, Sweetie?”

“I’m fine,” the girl responded. “What’d the special tonight?”

“We’re all out of the special but if you want something good, try the chicken-fried steak with home fries. Bill's got a secret spice he uses on 'em.”

She pealed off the old coat she was wearing to reveal a tight little body underneath. “Nah, I’ll just have a couple of scrambled eggs on a short stack with coffee.” Most of my blood headed back to my groin again when I saw her. She was as tasty as anything they served in this joint.

“Okay,” the waitress said as she wrote it down. Looking back an forth between us she asked, “Will that be one check or two?”

Before I could answer, the girl said, “One. Daddy always buys dinner. He won’t let me pay for anything.”

I don’t know if it was her smile, the way she called me ‘Daddy’ or her foot in my lap that kept me from saying anything.