I was tired. Tired and thirsty. It was twenty past one in the morning and I had put in a long hard day at work, in fact a long hard week at work, and then wearily got in my car for the usual Friday night drive back home. My job is contract based, and at the moment it means that I spent my working week 230 miles from where I live and only go home at weekends. Normally the drive should have taken around 4 to 5 hours but thanks to atrocious weather and a motorway closed due to a nasty accident, I had now been underway for more than 7 hours, and still had 40 miles or so to go. Although the road was now almost empty I was taking it easy, keeping it at around the 50 mph mark. The rain had been lashing down since late morning, and now there were large puddles of surface water on the carriage-way making aqua-planning a likely and dangerous prospect if I wasn't careful. Lack of sleep, darkness, and bad weather were not a great combination to be driving through, and I should really have stopped an hour or so ago and taken a break, but I had pressed on wanting to get home as soon as possible.
I needed something to keep me awake. Late night radio had been smooth and mellow, but it had the effect of a lullaby, lolling me ever nearer dreamland. What I needed was something to keep me awake and my mind focused on the road ahead. I flipped the stereo from 'Radio' to 'CD', and slipped a disc into the machine. The album was 'A Hard Day's Night', one of The Beatles early albums, a great one to sing along to and stop me drifting off. The distinctive sound of the opening chord from George Harrison, and we were into the opening title track.
And then I saw what I had been somewhat anxiously looking out for ahead. The car was as thirsty as I was and the fuel gauge showed that I was well into the red, but up ahead was the welcoming sight of the yellow Shell sign the all-night petrol station. I slowed down and pulled into the forecourt and chose the middle of the 9 available pumps so that I would be protected from the rain as much as possible by the canopy.
As I filled the car, I looked around but there really wasn't much to see. The Shell Shop was in darkness and obviously locked up, the only light shinning from within was over the 'Night Pay' window. I could see a girl sitting there who looked to be in her early twenties, with shoulder-length black hair and wearing a yellow T-shirt. Although she had looked up when I had first driven up to the pumps, she now seemed absorbed in whatever it was she reading.
The click of the pump handle told me that I had filled up as much as possible, and I tapped the nozzle against the side shaking the last of the drips into the tank, smiling as I did so. This action always reminded me of guys standing at urinals shaking the last of their droplets off their dicks. I went across to the Night Pay window to pay her. Unfortunately, although the pumps were covered by the station canopy, the pay window was right under the edge of it and the wind was lashing the rain against it. I just wanted to pay up as quickly as possible, grab a pint of milk and get back to the warmth of my car. I rapped on the window and the girl looked up from her magazine.
"Can I come in, I need a couple of things from the shop as well," I said.
"No you can't," she replied, "It's locked up. Just tell me what you want and I'll go and get it."
"Aw, come on, I'm getting soaked standing here." I gave her a sorrowful look and pulled the collars of my jacket up around my neck to emphasise my predicament.
"No really, I'm sorry but I can't. We're not allowed to open the main door when there is only one female on duty." She gave me an apologetic look and shrugged her shoulders.
I started fumbling in my pockets for me credit card, which was difficult with my leather-jacket zipped up, when she suddenly relented.
"Look O.K., I'll let you in, but I can't switch the lights on or anything, or I'll get in trouble."
With a grateful nod of the head I headed round to the main doors and waited for her to open up. Although the shop was not lit there was enough light in there for me to get a good look at her through the glass doors as she came round with a bunch of keys in her hand, She was about five and half foot tall, with braided black hair and green and yellow beads attached to the ends. Under this mop of hair was a lovely chocolate-brown face, with big brown eyes and a full-blooded red mouth. Not a beautiful girl in the classical sense, but certainly very pretty. I'm not good at guessing peoples ages, but I revised my previous estimate reckoning she was around 26 or 27. The yellow T-shirt I had noticed earlier was more of a cropped-top, it didn't reach her waist and I could see a silver stud winking at me from her navel. Below the T-shirt was a pair of tight fitting blue jeans which she wore in the current fashion, i.e. worn low on the hips so that I could see the straps of her thong high on her hips. Hers had dark blue piping with a lighter coloured, virtually see-through, blue material.
She bent down to unlock the glass door, and as she did so I got a quick flash of her breasts as I peeked down her top. They were smallish and encased in a bra that obviously matched the thong, but that same lovely chocolate brown colour.
"Thanks very much," I said when she had unlocked and opened the door for me, "It's pretty wet out there."
"Yes, we don't get many people stopping on a night like this," she replied, "In fact we don't get many customers during the night generally. I don't know why the bother keeping it open, but I'm not going to complain. It's a bit boring but the money is good because of the shift pattern."
My eyes followed her as she walked back to her counter. She really did have a lovely arse, the jeans fitting tight around them, and I could see the top of the flimsy triangle of the back of her thong that covered her very shapely bum. In my mind I could picture those chocolate globes with the flimsy material wedged between them.
I shook the image out of mind and went to pick up a couple of things I was after. The shop was a typical petrol station one selling the usual odd collection of items: - basic groceries, barbeque coal, CDs, men's magazines, oil and confectionary. I grabbed a pint of milk and a bar of chocolate and took them up to the counter. Placing the items on top op the counter I could now see what she had been so engrossed in whilst I had been filling up. It was one the men's magazines the shop sold.
"Like the pictures?" I asked her.
"Actually not much," she said "pictures of naked girls with their under-carriage hanging out don't do much for me, but I do like reading the stories. Like I said we don't get many drivers stopping during the night and it helps to pass the time." She swiped my purchases over the bar-code reader and said "Β£32.78 please."
"Stories?" I enquired with a raised eyebrow as I handed over my credit-card.