Peggy's Second Blind Date
It had been a dismal evening, yet she had survived. Again. Soaking wet and standing on -- unbeknownst to her -- the hookers' corner in an unfamiliar town at midnight, with a dead cell phone and her car stolen, she thought her little world had finally ended.
Peggy stood in the pouring rain on the corner under the street light, waiting for the next bus or first available cab. Nothing. She didn't have a bus schedule. Why would she? She had her own car. The car someone had neatly driven away while she waited in the restaurant lobby for yet...yes, another blind date that did not show.
Her hair dripped against her shoulders. Her clothes lay wet against her glistening skin. She was beginning to chill, causing raised flesh beneath her blouse.
There was no business open anywhere in this rolled-up little town.
The heel from her left stiletto lay broken in her right hand. It had snapped off when her foot slipped on the slick sidewalk. Maybe it could be repaired. She'd walked a great distance from...where? Where on earth was she? Some little town fifty plus miles from Chattanooga. Some place she'd never been. Some place she agreed to drive to, just to enjoy a tryst with a new face -- a face that was probably snuggled down deep under the covers, safe from this rain.
She saw a car coming from a few blocks away and held her hand up to wave it to a stop. A window rolled down and the driver yelled obscenities and said something about Peggy being a woman of ill-repute. He veered to intentionally splash street water and mud on her face and body, and threw a full soft drink cup at her.
Peggy doubled her fists by her side and cursed her blind date one more time. Then, while the tears ran down her cheeks, a very long, black stretch limousine came around the corner from her right on the opposite side of the street. Seriously? A limousine in this little town?
The driver abruptly braked, and the passenger window rolled down. She heard a voice -- from a face she could not see -- call to her through the rain, "Are you doing business?"
Peggy answered, "If you will give me a ride, I am doing business! I will shine your shoes, wash your undies, and cook your breakfast. Whatever it takes. I just want to get home!"
The window rolled up again. She could not see through the elaborate tint, but the car did not move, and she did not want to cross the street. She waited. The car moved forward and Peggy thought, Ohhhhhhhhhh, shit. They're leaving me. Her shoulders slumped.
The driver maneuvered a u-turn and (unlike the previous driver had just commandeered his SUV to intentionally splash muddy water and his full drink cup on Peggy) slowly and carefully pulled alongside her and stopped the vehicle. A very tall, exceptionally good-looking chauffeur in full uniform and sharp-brimmed cap stepped out, came around the front of the car to the right rear passenger door, and opened it.
"For you, Miss. Please join Mr. Rodriguez."
Peggy looked into the eyes of this younger version of Brad Pitt, and stammered, "You...you do realize I'm soaking wet and covered with mud, right?"
From within the vehicle a very mellow, deep voice resonated toward Peggy. "Yes. I know you are wet. I can see you are splashed with mud, too. Please join me. Your drenched body and your mud-spattered clothes are the least of my concerns."
Peggy cleared her throat. She squared her shoulders and thought to herself, I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. Really. They're not going to hurt me. They will really take me home. She removed her other heel, bent forward and stepped into the limousine. She sat down, quite close to the open door, then turned to the driver and said a very sincere, "Thank you."
The driver bowed and closed the door. He came back around to the driver's side, got in and started the engine, then drove the limo out of town.
Peggy waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior.
Mr. Rodriguez reached for and turned on a very soft light.
He said, "You are quite cold, and you're shivering all over. "Please, wrap this soft blanket over your body and under your neck." He offered her a glass of brandy and she took it. "Take your time with it. Just sip. Have you eaten?" he asked.
Peggy shook her head. "I was supposed to have a late dinner with my blind date," she stammered, her teeth chattering, "and then go to a m-m-movie afterwards. He never showed up at the restaurant, even though I waited until it closed at 9:00. I forgot to save his number when he called to ask me out, so I know he had mine. When I returned to the parking garage, my car was stolen. By this time, my cell battery had died. I...I...c-couldn't find a phone booth, and did not know the location of the police station. Except for the movie theater -- wherever that is -- everything in this town was locked down by 9:00 p.m." Peggy spoke, haltingly, her words running over each other, due to her fear and the chill.
She had no idea why Rodriguez would give her a ride, and wondered what she would be required to do to earn a way home and her own bed. Six blow jobs? So be it! Except, of course, her wardrobe was covered with rain and mud, her hair was a mess, her shoe was broken, and she was soaking wet. What could she possibly offer this Rodriguez guy under these circumstances? Her pre-packaged pretty was all gone, and she obviously needed him more than he could possibly want her.
All that brazen bravado she thought she'd had, by stepping out and stepping up to the challenge of meeting a stranger in a small town, suddenly collapsed in a mess of tears. She covered her face with one hand and cried, sloshing the brandy in her other hand.
Rodriguez waited until she composed herself. He did not attempt to touch her, and made great effort to not move too quickly, lest he startle or frighten her. He sat on the same seat to her left, but rose and moved directly across from her to the rear-facing seat so he could watch her face.
Mr. Rodriguez looked her squarely in the eyes and extended his hand to her. "I am Rodriguez, and this" -- he said, gesturing to his driver -- "is Samuel."
Peggy reached out from under the blanket and placed her other hand into his. He held her shaking palm and fingers in both of his strong, firm, gentle hands. Her teeth chattering, she said, "P-p-p-peggy. My...name...my name is P-Peggy."
"Thank you, Peggy. Please tell Samuel your address, then lie back in your seat and put this nice pillow behind your back and head. I will warm you." He handed the pillow to her and encouraged her to stretch out her legs and put her feet on his lap. Peggy put the pillow behind her shoulders. He pushed another button and an ottoman came out from the bottom of her seat while her seat reclined.
She could still look directly into his eyes. "But even my stockings are muddy, Mr. Rodriguez. Please don't put this mud on your slacks."
"Call me Rodriguez, Peggy. Everyone except Samuel calls me Rodriguez. My clothes will wash. I have enough clothes hanging on the rack behind your car seat that I never worry about such trivialities as mud and water."
Peggy stared at him and finally acquiesced. She had no fight left in her. She looked at Samuel in his rear-view mirror and gave her address to him, surprised how sleepy she sounded.
Samuel nodded and said, "Thank you, Miss Peggy. I will get you home safely." He placed her address in the vehicle's GPS. The ear bud secured and hidden in his ear would speak all the directions to him without disturbing his passengers.
Peggy sipped her brandy. Rodriguez removed her other heel and placed both of her feet in his lap. Without asking her permission -- and Peggy was stunned at her lack of alarm -- Rodriguez raised the blanket up and over her knees. He then lifted the hem of her dress, unhooked her wet and muddy stockings from their garters and slowly peeled the stockings off her legs and over her toes.
He buzzed the window down just enough to toss Peggy's hose out into the rain. "You will never need those again. Your long, beautifully flawless legs require pure silk stockings which you will receive when I visit Chattanooga again in a few weeks."
She watched him reach forward in the limo and open a cabinet. He pulled out a folded hand towel and used it to warm her legs, as well as remove the residue left from the damaged and muddy stockings. The towel was very soft and -- quite surprisingly -- heated.
"Oh, my gosh," Peggy said. "The heat in the towel feels so good! How can I ever thank you for your kindness? I feel absolutely spoiled!"
