A Blue Christmas

The vision of such bonzer bazoomers was so utterly fascinating that it took a superhuman effort on my part to raise my heavy-as-lead eyeballs up to meet hers.

I was sure all the muscles holding my jaw had turned to trembling jelly while my brain was frozen solid on her image as if any other intrusive thoughts would sully her dinkum perfection, which wasn't just 'fair', it was off the charts.

When my foggy eyes finally focused on her outstanding eyes, I noticed that they were blue eyes, sky blue islands in pure white pools.

Looking at her beautiful face was like seeing the Milky Way for the first time while on walkabout. Spectacular, awesome, overwhelming. Yeah, you get the picture.

Then one of her eyebrows was raised in question before she slowly, deliberately, folded her arms across those wondrous orbs, a vision now obliterated even from my periphery vision. I registered vaguely that she spoke.

"They didn't agree with your request, Mister, but I saw and heard you speaking with Max. They have hi-res monitors and cctv as well as you do, with Dolby surround sound too, so I heard every single word. You stood up against them. I liked that. You were defiant. You gave them something to think about and you gave me hope. They were distracted, deflected, and that doesn't happen much, not with these guys."

She had a very slight European accent, but her English was so near perfect, like a plummy Pom or a posh toff arm candy, all legs and tits, magnificent tits by the way, like you see at the Melbourne Races within the VIP enclosure.

Just watching those generous pink lips moving while she talked made me almost forget her now-hidden boobs for a moment. I had to remind myself that I hate women, all women, especially my wife, all women except my Aunt Milly, god bless her dear departed soul.

"Yeah, well, that guy, Max was it?" I said, my throat dry and raspy, "He pissed me right off."

"I could tell."

"So, if they didn't agree to what I offered, why?—"

"Paddy Powell was throwing a wobbly at Max. Oh, Powell's the guy running the gig and footing the bills by the way. Anyway, while Powell was distracted, I pushed one of his two guards over and buried one of my flip-flops in the other guy's arse and was out of that RV in a second. Then I thought there was nowhere else to run to, except here, with you."

"Why here? You said you had already heard my terms."

"Yes, I did. But, the way you stood up to them, that you had made up your mind what you wanted and refused to bow to their intimidation, made me.... Well, I ... I hoped I would fare better here with you than be gang banged by up to twenty-odd sweaty guys back there, which apparently is their avowed intention. While I was locked up in that RV today, I overheard a couple of the guys saying that Powell was taking bets that he could bed all six models during the week-long photo shoot. Then afterwards the crew were expecting to gang bang us all for the rest of the night."

"You're a photographic model?" I should have guessed, she was beautiful, perfect. And even though I hate all living women with a vengeance, I can appreciate a prime specimen of sheilahood when I see one.

"Yes, I was a catwalk fashion model once, in Paris, but it's been mostly catalogue work, the odd car show, eye candy at the Monaco Grand Prix, etc. But as you get older in this game, work begins to dry up. This was supposed to be a calendar, a topless but tasteful calendar, and I was pencilled in as 'June'. It was for Online Betcash Bookies, it's the biggest gambling network in the world, you must've heard of it."

"I never gamble, I don't even do the VIC State Lottery scratchies."

I stood up in my seat in front of her and she didn't even flinch as I reached a hand past her and locked the door. I turned off the overhead light that I was reading by, so it was semi dark inside, although the webcam monitor was still on, showing her head and shoulders and bathing us in its subdued light. It meant her nudity was a little less apparent and I thought that might help me breath properly again. I may be immune to her charms but my hormonal responses hadn't exactly carked it yet.

I ducked down behind me to a shelf under the sleeping compartment, pulled out my bath robe, and held it out for her.

"Put this on. Give me a mo and I'll sort out some trackie daks and a tee you can sleep in. You take the bed behind me tonight and I'll sleep up front here in the cab. Then we'll slip away in the night, hopefully while they're still sleeping off their partying."

"What are 'trackie daks and a tee', a tee-shirt, maybe?" she asked.

Although it was already growing dark and she was silhouetted against the outside, I could still see my first image of her clearly in my mind's eye. Damn, it took me years to lose the image of my ex-wife, Maggie Stone, and she was much less memorable than this sheila, and I didn't even know this gorgeous girl's full name.

"Yeah, track suit bottoms and a tee shirt?" I replied as I fossicked in the cubbyholes behind my seat, looked them out and thrust them in her hand. "You can change in the sleeping compartment. No lock but you can pull the curtains across. There's a light switch on the right. The clobber may be a bit loose on you, but they'll do until we find a store open somewhere, probably not until the day after tomorrow, if you care to stay on the highway that long."

"Right. So, you want me to put on your shower robe, change into your clothes, sleep separately and then you or we are going away from here? Going where, exactly?" she smirked, or at least I thought she did.

It was dark, damned dark. I had turned the lights off that I was reading my book by, mostly to spare my blushes, as she didn't seem to blush at all, except from the earlier exertion of running the short hop from the lead Winno to my cab.

"Sorry, Miss, I thought that, judging by the way those two monkeys were dragging you from one Winno to the other, in what deffo looked like against your will, you'd like to get away from them as soon as. Unfortunately for us both, it's Chrissie Day tomorrow and nothing's open, except the odd pub for a lunchtime sanga and a refreshing frostie, and that may be restricted to the regulars. I'm heading for Darwin up in the Northern Territory, and what passes for civilisation around there, if you are interested in heading that way too. Not much in the way of population in between here and there where I could safely drop you off. Might be able to pick up some clothes and a pair of thongs in the Boxing Day sales for you, maybe."

"What is it about thongs for you men? They are so uncomfortable to wear."

"Yeah, I know, I prefer sandals myself. I picked up a bonza pair with Velcro instead of laces last month and packed them in my backpack."

"Whatever. Anyway, I have no money. My cards, my cell, my passport and everything I had and brought with me, they have. They wouldn't let me have them without...."

"There are several consulates in Darwin that you might get help, are you British?"

"Danish."

"Ahh, thought there was a slight accent of some kind." I said. "There is deffo a Royal Danish Consulate based in Darwin. Least there was about five years ago, the last time I lived in the city. I can drop you off in four days' time. Or drop you at a town along the way, like Alice Springs, if you prefer."

"Thank you. Darwin sounds good, sounds best. You are ... too kind."

"You're welcome. Now, are you hungry?"

"I'm a model, I'm always hungry." She flashed me that beautiful smile again. Damn, I noticed, my bloody eyes had gotten used to the dark.

"I've got a ham sanger made in a wholemeal seeded roll and you can wash it down with a glass of chilled white wine?" I suggested, she nodded, "and I know I have Belgian chocolate ice cream in the tiny freezer for arvos." She flashed that magic smile again before disappearing into the sleeping box.

I looked out the ham roll from the fridge, reminding myself that I hate woman but I will always act like a gentleman and take her as promised as far as Darwin. I just hoped she didn't wack on from here to Woop Woop like most sheilas, otherwise I'd consider giving her the slip at a servo well away from here.

Nothing must stop me from delivering my load and getting away clean from my final customer before the office staff come in at 9am on the 29th. Yeah, this would work. Deffo.

I looked up when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. The image on the monitor changed, as this time Max, the big Yank, and two of his henchmen approached the door of my cab.

Chapter 2. RELOCATE

"HEY, MAX, MANY thanks to Mr Powell for the loan of the Bluey, she's as beaut as a ribeye wrapped round a roastie," I shouted through the locked door, having opened the window just a crack, enough for our chinwag. "Look, the sheila's getting herself wet'n'ready in the sleeper for me right now, but as soon as she's done with making this nasty swelling I've got go down and I can comfortably reach the steering wheel again, say three minutes tops the first time? Then I'll move to the other side of the park as agreed, fair dinkum, mate?"

"Look man, Mr Powell don't agree with this idea o' yoos usin' his girlfriend. We's come to fetch her back, an' we's don't expect no trouble."

"Really? I assumed she was sent over by your Guv'nor and that we therefore had an agreement between us. She certainly gives me the impression that she's willing to stay with me without any coercion on my part, so I've already accepted her as my guest ... all done in good faith on my part, of course, Max, and I naturally assumed yours too."

"Does this mean yoos refusin' to open this door and yoos ain't agivin' her back?" Max growled through the door, "'cause Mr Powell now, he ain't gonna like that."

"Well, Max, contrary to public opinion, us knights of the Straya road trains ain't that accustomed to picking up young sheilas, especially one bonza sheila like this Bluey that I've gratefully accepted solely for my arvo's pleasure. And, this being Christmas, well, a prezzie's a prezzie, right? It would be ill-mannered of me to turn this lovely gift in the mouth down, even though you didn't properly gift wrap her. So, my first thought when she came in was that maybe I ought to woo her a bit, you know, dine her and wine her before I properly unwrap and enrapt her."

"Yeah, I can understand that, Man, she's somethin' else, but Mr Powell, he don't...."

"So, how about you explain to your Guv'nor, Mr Powell, that I will fulfil my end of the bargain by shifting my arse from these 40 metres of prime shaded space under the gums, and out of your way in a few moes? And, later, when I have tired of the charming young sheila's company, she'll be free to leave my sleeper. I'm certain she'll be as full of er, bounce, as she was when she first arrived. Tell you what, mate,I'll even gift wrap her again and tie on a big bow before she leaves."

Max laughed, "Yoo's got some steel cahones, Bro, I'll say that. I'll check if that's OK wid the Boss."

"Remember, Max, you are being watched, streamed and recorded by more than one camera, all going to my company's cloud, with my oppo watching us with some interest, especially as the cams are moveable on remote. The sheila's here as my honoured guest and I warn you, mate, that if you do any damage to my vehicle, threaten either one of us in any manner or attempt to remove my guest against her will, those images will be sent instantly to the South Australian Police at Port Augusta. Don't even think about damaging my external antennae, because my satellite phone is also networked to my internal server and, if my monitor tells me that the external signal is lost, I can reroute the images through my satellite phone and then I'll 'triple zero' in an instant."

In fact I knew that Mike had already called the nearest police station and sent them the feed from all the cameras. He had informed me that a patrol would be on its way as soon as they could spare one, but they covered a wide area and already had their hands full of mostly student Chrissie Eve parties.

"Triple zero?" asked Max with his low forehead furrowed.

"That's our police emergency number, like your 911." I watch some Yank tv shows, especially the crime series.

"Right. Make sure yoos keep them images away from the cops."

"You keep your part, I'll keep mine."

"I'll check back with Mr Powell. If he's happy to leave Bonnie with yoos until, say nine in the morning, we'll leave yoos alone. If'n he don't like it, we'll be back."

"I'll be gone by eight. I'll leave her by the roadside when we're done."

Max and his goons turned away and trudged back to the first Winno. I looked beyond them and saw what looked like a bloke using a rolled Pam Shriver to sniff coke off a sheila's bare tit. Yeah, I thought to myself, the police turning up sometime soon could be very interesting.

Bonnie emerged from the bed box while I unwrapped her ham and wholemeal sandie. Her face was fresh, clear of whatever make up she might have previously worn, I hadn't really noticed before. She looked stunning, even in my ratty old robe, which looked like it could wrap around her body twice over.

This sleeper cab's fitted with an elevated single bed, a light-proof privacy curtain between the accommodation and the driver's compartment. It is fully air conditioned and, where available at better truck stops, it can be hooked up to power; failing that I have a small kerosene generator to keep the fans going keeping us cool in the day and warm at night in the desert. Not many trucks on Aussie roads have that level of comfort, but I was the owner and I looked after my truckies, and they looked after me. All our vehicles are leased and fairly new and efficient, with smart paint jobs, this one in the livery colours of the paper mill, one of three in the fleet dedicated to this company.

When I took over the business, we owned our twelve trucks, bought through expensive bank loans, that were getting to the end of their working lives. My uncle and aunt, who ran the business, worked them harder than they had allowed through the books in depreciation and I found I couldn't afford to replace them from what reserves they'd made available. Leasing had worked out well while our finances were stretched. Now the business was doing well it was easier to find enough surplus to replace a few each year, but with the business now sold and all assets and liabilities transferred to the new company, that was none of my concern any more.

She looked around the cab, while she munched the sanger that I had passed to her. "I see there is a hair dryer hanging up on the wall in the sleeping compartment, yet your hair is close cropped. Do you normally have another young lady to share your bed with you?"

"Nah. This was my Uncle Pete's cab, he, well, although he was married and company rules strictly forbid it, he entertained sheilas while on the road a lot, which is why five years ago he ended up as my ex-Uncle."

"Yet you still call him 'Uncle'?"

"He wronged my long-suffering Aunt Milly, so sure, he weren't no saint, and she divorced him just before she died. But Pete never wronged me, I still liked him. He was friendly and full of fun, a toppo good worker, the best driver on the team and I respected him for that. And I had only ever called him 'Uncle' all my life, so it was difficult to drop that, especially as my aunt was no longer around to stop me."

"You say 'was' in regard to your uncle, he is also no longer around?"

"He's still as nasty a rogue as he ever was, but he's no longer around because he's retired. Actually he doesn't start drawing his pension until the 1st of January, but with holiday accrued, he finished driving for a living over a week ago, and is presently roasting during the day on a North Queensland beach."

She nodded.

"So, I heard what you said to Max just now," she regarded me, coldly with a scowl, "when you've finished whatever you want to do with me, you're kicking me out to go back to those animals?"

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop on other people's chinwags? However, if you think back to exactly what I said, I told Max that when I was finished with you, you'd be free to leave. I don't make binding agreements with rapists and possibly worse. So, I might not become finished with you until we get to the Danish Consulate in Darwin and I drop you off in the roadside outside. But really, you are free to go whenever you want, whatever place you feel you are safest, so long as it is on my route. I'm on a schedule over the holidays and can't afford to deviate by much. I could drop you off at the next police station if you like. Port Augusta is the next big town I have to drive through, maybe twenty minutes' away."

"So what do you intend doing with me?"

"Nothing you don't want to do, except maybe feed you, give you somewhere safe to sleep and drop you off somewhere civilised as soon as I can. You can keep the daks and tee, but, when you're sorted somewhere safe, I'd like the robe back, it's the only one I packed. While you're my guest, I wouldn't dream of restraining you here or consider holding anyone against their free choice. Right now, do you need anything more to eat?"

She smiled, not as brilliantly as before but it was preferable to the scowl which had just evaporated. "Thanks. I am still hungry, yes. What do you have?"

"A bread roll with Vegemite?" I had poured her a glass of South Aussie Pinot from a fresh screw top bottle chilling in the fridge and handed it to her. I had been saving it to go with my Chrissie Day tucker, but I thought she'd appreciate it a lot more than me. "Now, you might have to hold on tight to something, while I move this truck away from the party as agreed, seeing as how Max hasn't returned with a negative answer."

"Couldn't you carry on going, straight out the exit and on towards Darwin or the Port that you mentioned?"

"No, I've driven over ten hours already today and I'm buggered, sorry, tired. I'm usually office based so, if I do any driving, it's usually short haul, filling in for holidays, sickness or emergencies, so driving for a day and a half solid, plus all the hanging around waiting to be loaded, has taken its toll."

She nodded.

"Besides, these goons may well follow me immediately if we go now and catch me up easily before we safely get to a built up area. The next stop is Port Augusta, which must be about twenty minutes away. Better for me to get a few hours' shuteye and let them get high on drugs and booze, and perhaps even heads down sleeping it off. We'd have a better chance of sneaking out and getting away clean if we hit the frog and toad in the small hours."

"You're right." She nodded between mouthfuls. "They do have plenty of booze and drugs, particularly cocaine, and they love to party. It's been like that for the whole of the shoot."

"How long have you been out on this ... shooting party?" I asked because she didn't look the sort to enjoy Roo hunting and she was certainly not dressed or undressed for it.

"This is the fifth day of the photo shoot, we've been all over at different locations, mostly wide open spaces, grassland and desert, and have just come from the Flinders range of mountains? They party every night and some guys met us in the mountains earlier today and brought more champagne and probably more drugs. So far they've been using them like a top of the show rock band act at the very last rock festival before Armageddon."

I called Mike on the satty phone and told him that our neighbours were using drugs, "Only five minutes ago I saw one of the crew casually sniffing a line of coke off a sheila's tits, like it was a natural thing to do."

"Righto, Mark, I've already seen that clip and blown it up and I gotta say, there's nothing natural about them tits, they just didn't jiggle right, if you know what I mean. I've got a dialogue going with the Port Augusta Blues, so I will let 'em know about the drug use and possession."