Author’s Note: My thanks to fellow Literotica writer ‘Rainy Day Girl’, who suggested the original story, and assisted with parts of the scenario and descriptions. This story is dedicated to her. The spelling mistakes and poor grammar are, however, all mine. GA.
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‘Damn.’ I though, ‘I must have missed the turning.’
It was a Sunday afternoon and I was on my way to a hotel tucked away in the New Forest, where my company had sent me for a course on ‘Assertiveness in the work-place.’ I had been tempted to show my assertiveness by throwing the instructions away, but then thought ‘Why not? Three days in a country hotel at the company’s expense sounded quite appealing’. Six of us were due to take the course which started on Monday at 10.00am, but I was the only one who had elected to drive down the night before, the others driving down the following morning.
I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and fished the map off the back-seat. It had been a baking hot afternoon, but dark clouds were ominously gathering to the west and I switched the overhead light on to study the map. The map plainly showed that I’d passed a turning to the left 2 or 3 miles back. How could I have missed it? Perhaps I was getting tired, I thought. I’d already been driving for a couple of hours without a break, and I could do with getting out the car and stretching my legs. I checked the map again. There was another turning further on which, though it was a minor road, I could use to get where I was heading. ‘Turn back and look for the main turning or carry on and take the back road?’ I thought. I decided to drive on, take the next left and park somewhere for a quarter of an hour and take a break.
I switched off the light, threw the map on the back seat and moved off. The turning to the left was just around the next bend, and ten minutes later I was parked off the road, and out of the car admiring the scenery. This was my first time in the New Forest and rather than being forested as I had expected, the gentle slopes were covered in purplish heather. As it was a late Sunday afternoon, I’d expected families to be out enjoying the local beauty spot, yet there was no-one around, apart from a couple of ponies half-a-mile or so further on. They appeared completely disinterested in me. Perhaps it was the looming clouds that had sent the picnickers back home.
I opened the boot of my car and restacked the CD player. Much as though I listen to a lot of the modern stuff, when I’m driving I like to listen oldies that I can sing along to. I selected Bob Dylan’s ‘Greatest Hits’, The Beatles’ ‘Let It Be’ album, and put them in the CD player, along with a few more modern selections. Despite the imminent showers it was still sweltering outside. Within a few minutes the humidity was getting to me, I could feel my shirt beginning to stick to my back. I clambered back into the coolness of the car, turned the ignition-key so that the music would kick in. Although I’d not intended to take such a long break, I sat there for half-an-hour my eyes closed, listening to Dylan. Apart from one lorry that passed me, whose rumblings made me briefly open my eyes, I didn’t see or sense anyone else there.
Ah well, I thought, I guess I’d better get going. Starting the car up, I moved down the road towards the ponies. The road was quite a narrow one, but it was a pleasant drive none the less. The ponies again ignored me as I drove slowly passed, and the road crested the next ridge and again dipped down into another glade of purple heather. As I eased round a bend I suddenly had to slam on the brakes as a woman jumped out at me waving me down. I wasn’t driving fast, but still screeched to a halt. I opened the passenger window, and she stuck her head in.
“Hi,” an American voice said, “look sorry to jump out like that, but, er, do you possible have a cell-phone I could use?”
She was strikingly good looking, long dark hair framing an oval face with soft hazel eyes, and high cheek-bones. I couldn’t see much of else of her, leaning in as she was, but her gorgeous face flustered me for a moment. “Um, yes, er, of course,” I said, reaching for the mobile attached to the dashboard. “Have you broken down or something?”
“Well, not exactly,” she said taking the offered mobile, “I’m sort of stranded here. I’d just like to phone a friend of mine and get her to pick me up.”
“Well I can gift you a lift,” I asked, “where are you heading?”
“No really, thank you. If it’s all the same to you I’d rather just call her and wait if you don’t mind. Listen, could you hold the phone a second, I need to get the number out my bag.”
She handed the phone back to me and withdrew her head, and straightened up, so that from my position all I could now see was the upper-half of her body, the rest of her hidden from view by the door frame. She was wearing a light cream-coloured summer dress, and I admired the swell of her breasts, there being little else of her visible from my position. I’d no idea how long she had been out in this sun, but beads of perspiration had caused the dress to become slightly transparent and I could see the outline of a bra through the clothing, and the indentations against the dress fabric where her nipples pushed through. I watched her hands delve into a rucksack, emerging a few seconds later holding a little pocket-book. She flipped through the pages and found the number she was after. Once again those stunning features poked through the car window.
“Right, I’ve got it. I’ll make the call as quick as I can,” she said.
“Before you do that,” I said, “it really would be no problem to drop you off somewhere. “I’m in no particular rush and …”
“Thank you, but no. I’m sure you’re being very kind, but the last guy who gave me a lift tried it on with me, and dumped me here I in the middle of nowhere.”
“Tried it on?”
“Well you know, he wanted some, er, fun. Now, where exactly am I? I’ll need to give Jane, my friend, some directions.”
I leaned over and retrieved the map again from the back-seat. Opening it up to the right page I pointed to where we were on the map.
“And where’s Christchurch?” she asked, “That’s where Jane lives.”
“Christchurch!” I said pointing it out on the map, “That must be close to an hour’s drive away, and I think it’s about to rain. You’ll be drenched before she gets here. Let me at least drive you as far as the next village, where you can wait for her in a pub or something.”
She gave me a doubtful look.
“Look,” I ventured one last time, “why don’t you call your friend, give her my name, and phone number, and then you’ll know you’ll I won’t try anything on.”
She thought about it again for a moment. “OK then, and thank you, you’re very kind. It does look like it’s going to get rather wet soon.”
Still with her head bent in through the window, she punched in the number and I heard her half of the conversation. “Hi Jane, it’s me. Listen I’m stuck somewhere in the New Forest, is there any chance of you picking me up?” There was a few moments silence and then “Well Matt gave me a life to Southampton, and from there I thumbed a ride off some lorry driver, and he’s dumped me here.” More silence. “Yes I know you warned me against thumbing rides but I’m fine, just stuck that’s all.” Another pause and she carried on “No, I’m not in a call-box, some guy stopped and lent me his mobile.” Yet more silence before “Hang on a second, I’ll ask him.” She turned to me and said ‘Jane wants to know exactly where we are.”
“Shall I speak to her?” I asked.
“Please,” she said handing me the phone.
“Hi,” I said taking the phone.
“Hello I’m Jane,” a voice said in my ear, “who’s this?”
“Hi Jane, my name’s Paul Oudenaar and we’re by Furzey Down on the road that leads to Lyndhurst. I think we’re close to a village called Minstead. Now I’m heading for Lyndhurst, but as I told your friend, I’m in no great rush and don’t mind taking her to Christchurch.”
