A Burned House Saved My Life

On the other hand, my employer could be traced through my taxes and Social Security Number, but I still couldn't imagine any divorce court in the country going through those machinations over a missing ex-husband and a house, but who the fuck knew. Of course, Cheryl might try to insist on it. At any rate, I felt pretty well insulated.

Before I left my home town, I even went so far as to get a burner phone. I transferred the contact information I wanted to keep to that phone and turned my old one off... and kept it off. It was my understanding that I could be traced if my old phone was on. I kept it charged and paid the minimum monthly bill, but never turned it on, and only select people, like my parents, knew I had a different one.

Overkill? Maybe, but it made me feel more comfortable.

Two days after Tim left, I was told that I was cleared and would leave in the next couple of days for my first trip. I spent the time practicing driving around town in coaches waiting to be delivered.

My first coach was one of the lower-end coaches, but still cost more than a lot of houses. The manufacturer's suggested retail price (MSRP) was $196, 572 plus cost of delivery and taxes.

I found a storage unit for my things, and turned in the truck I had rented. My pickup would stay in the covered section of the employees parking lot so that was taken care of. Sitting in the exposed Texas sun for weeks at a time was not too good on vehicles. I packed a small travel bag, got behind the wheel of the coach and took off. The dealership I was delivering to was in Philadelphia, PA.

According to company policy, I could only drive 500 miles per day. That left a lot of time in motels. I could see where the job wouldn't appeal to most.

At 500 miles per day, it would take 3 days to get to Philadelphia. My second day on the road took me through my home town, but it was all Interstate, so I wasn't worried. I broke the mileage rules that day because I wanted to get out of my home state..... just in case.

I made it to Philadelphia, received a signature and inspection report for the coach and one of their employees took me to the airport. I couldn't get a flight until the next day, so spent almost 15 hours in the hotel.

No women wanted to see the inside of the coach on that first trip.

Or the second.

Or the third.

Things changed on the fourth.

I was on my way to Seattle with a $300,000 coach. It was a tad over 2200 miles; a scheduled five day trip, but my boss said I could do it in four if I wanted to. I stopped for the night in Salt Lake City. The motel was one that had a Manager's Welcome with beer, wine, and snacks. It was summer and the 'welcome' was outside next to the pool area. Alcohol was not permitted in the pool enclosure, but the swimmers could come out, eat and drink and return to the pool. The area overlooked the rear parking lot and my coach was sitting there all bright and shiny.

"Excuse me," said one of the two women standing next to the table I was sitting at. I could see the tops of their bathing suits, but the bottoms were covered by the wet towels they had wrapped around themselves.

"Yes?"

"Did you drive that bus in here?"

I smiled. Maybe my luck was about to change. "Why, yes I did."

"Do you live in it?"

"I don't."

"Could you if you wanted to?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why don't you? Why do you spend money for a motel if you have that?"

"It isn't mine. I'm just delivering it."

"Oh? To who? Or is it whom?"

"It's neither. It's a dealership where it will be sold."

"You mean it's for sale?"

"It will be."

"Can we look inside?"

I smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

We started to the coach, but they stopped long enough to toss their wet towels in a basket provided for that purpose, and grab fresh, dry towels. They didn't wrap the new towels around their waists, but hung them around their necks. I caught a glimpse of small bikini bottoms before I turned and led them to the coach.

"I'm Lauren, by the way," said the one who had done all the talking so far. "And this is Cathy." She said indicating her friend."

"Hello, Lauren, Cathy. I'm Jason."

"Hello, Jason," they said in unison.

I unlocked the door and indicated they should step inside.

"Holy fuck. It's like a palace," said Lauren.

"It's like a picture in a magazine," said Cathy. "Who buys shit like this?"

I chuckled. "People who want to travel and go camping, but without sacrificing anything like flush toilets and satellite TV. It's called 'glamping'."

"Flush toilets?" Asked Lauren. "Really?"

"Sure. Come here." We had been standing behind where the driver sat, but I led them to the bathroom. "Here it is."

"Crap. Uh... pardon the expression, but can I flush it?"

"Sure go ahe....."

"OMFG. A shower? It has a shower?" She interrupted. "A fucking shower? Can I use it? Just for fun. I want to say I took a shower in a bus."

"Uh. Sure, but I'll have to start the generator and heat the water. It might take a few minutes".

"That's okay, we'll look at the rest of this fucker while you do that."

I went to the control panel and pushed a button. You couldn't hear it, but down below, a generator started. I knew there wasn't much fresh water in the holding tank, because the factory never filled them, but there was enough for Lauren to take a shower and I smiled at the thought.

For the next few minutes, I showed them through the rest of the coach. Two things amazed them the most; the washer and dryer and the way the mattress in the bedroom raised hydraulically to expose a hidden storage compartment and built-in safe.

We had finished our drinks and Cathy wanted another, so she left and came back with a full bottle of wine. "The bartender likes me," she said and smiled.

"How long does it take for the water to get hot?" Asked Lauren.

"It should be ready by now."

"Good. May I really do it?"

"Go ahead, but the door that seals the bathroom from the rest of the coach isn't activated," I lied. "We will be able to see you."

"Who cares?" she said as she threw her towel on the bathroom sink and reached behind to untie her top. I tried to be casual as I lifted my glass to my lips to take a sip of wine. Her top went with her towel and her bottoms followed. She had no tan lines so I assumed her being naked in front of people was not a rarity. "How do you turn it on?"

She was standing in front of the controls, so I reached in and the back of my hand brushed her breasts and just that minimal touch caused my dick to stir. I twisted the dial/knob and cool water shot out and I watched as her nipples stiffened. I sipped my wine and continued to watch as the water warmed and her nipples lost their stiffness, but my dick didn't.

She was only in there for a minute or so and never even got soapy. She just wanted to experience it. She reached to turn the water off.

"Not yet," yelled Cathy. Then she looked at me. "May I do it?"

She didn't wait for what we both knew was going to be a very enthusiastic 'YES'. She stripped off her suit as Lauren stepped out, tossed her bathing suit aside and picked up her towel. My eyes went from one to the other with my dick now almost too stiff to move in my pants. Lauren dried herself and casually wrapped the towel around her waist and reached for her wine glass.

Like Lauren, Cathy was in there just long enough to get wet. She turned the water off and asked for her towel. Lauren handed it to her and she, like Lauren, dried herself, then wrapped the towel around her waist. She lifted her glass and the three of us toasted each other.

They wanted to look in every nook and cranny of that coach... again... and even sat in the driver's seat. It was getting dark outside, so I picked up a remote control and started to close all of the window coverings, but Lauren squealed, jumped up, took the remote and did it herself... over and over. Then Cathy did it. I smiled as I got another remote and started playing with the interior lights.

The two of them laughed and giggled as the LED lights changed the inside of that coach to an infinite number of colors, and like the window covering remote, they took turns playing with it.

After a short while, Cathy, who had the remote, put it on the counter. "You must think we're crazy acting like children."

I laughed. "It's okay. Having these things on wheels is a different experience from having them in your house. Just imagine taking a shower, or cooking a meal, while going down the highway at 70 miles an hour."

"Anyway, it's nice of you to show this bus to us. It's amazing."

"It is," added Lauren. Then she walked toward me and loosened the towel around her waist and it fell to the floor. "Now, there's one other thing I'd like to do in here. I'm a member of the mile high club. Is there a 'fuck in a bus club'?"

My dick, which had gotten a bit soft, regained some of its' hardness. "Uh... not that I know of, but we could start one."

Two items were checked off my bucket list that evening: Me being with two women at the same time, and watching two women together.

The two left the coach at three in the morning. I spent the rest of the night in it and only went back in the motel to shower, collect my stuff, and have breakfast. I was several hours late getting started on my 500 miles that day.

And so it went for over a year. I delivered coaches and got laid about every fourth delivery. It never seemed to happen when I had an R/V; just with coaches.

Six of my deliveries during that time were to Florida, which was the biggest market for coaches like ours. On each trip, I arranged to spend time with my parents and each time they reminded me that either Cheryl or her attorney had asked them repeatedly about where I was and how they could contact me.

The last three times it was Cheryl who contacted them. She told them that she was alone, broke, and desperate. She told that to my father who said to her without much sympathy, "that's too bad" and never asked her how or why she was in that situation.

I figured that if I was going to hear anything official, it would be in May or June after taxes were filed. If the courts wanted to find me, they would track me through my Social Security Number and the IRS. I heard nothing and was feeling relatively safe.

Since starting that job, I had spent very little of my own money because the company picked up virtually all of my expenses; consequently, I had over a year's salary stashed away in addition to what I had before I started working. I figured I couldn't deliver coaches forever, so started planning the next stage of my life. Another year of what I was doing and I could almost... almost... buy a house outright; unless, of course, I moved to San Francisco, New York City, or some other ridiculously expensive city. I knew Seattle was expensive, but the Pacific Northwest was still calling me. I had made several deliveries up there and really liked the area.

The vast majority of vehicles we built were family or owner-driver. That means the owner of the coach generally drove it and it was used primarily as a vacation vehicle for the family. These would normally sleep between two and six people and not have the driver's area isolated from the rest of the coach.

We also built coaches that were designed to have a separate driver's area. It wasn't much, but would partially isolate the driver. These coaches were generally built for bands and singers. Some of them were set up for just the star and his or her family or close friends and some were set up for the bands. The latter could sleep as many as 12, using a bunkbed arrangement, and still have a bathroom, kitchen, space big enough to eat, shoot the shit, write songs, play games, etc. These bands traveled the country and literally lived in the coaches for months at a time. The 'Stars' coaches generally cost at least a million dollars and the star, with very few exceptions, would come to the factory to take delivery.

I had just gotten back from a delivery to Oregon, and was due to take a couple of days off. I was in the motel when my boss called. "Jason, I have a deal for you." That comment was right up there with "I'm from the government and I'm here to help you" in terms of evoking total and instantaneous suspicions.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to be sick that day."

"What day? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Every time you tell me you have a deal for me, I end up not having any time off because there's a coach that has to be delivered 'yesterday'."

"That may have been true in the past, but trust me, you'll like this one."

That was another of those comments that meant trouble: "trust me". "Tom, I'm tired. I need a couple of days rest and I haven't had a vacation since I've been here."

"What do you mean no vacation? You travel all the time and you've been to most of the 48 contiguous states. What more do you want?" I liked my job, and, as mentioned, wanted to have it for at least another year, but except for the few visits I made to my parent's house, I hadn't lived in anything bigger than one room in a motel or hotel for well over a year. "Look," he said. "Do this for me and I promise you'll get some time off."

Fuck, I thought. In the final analysis he had been more than fair with me. "All right. Where does it have to be and when?"

"It's going to Nashville, but this one is a little different."

"Different?" I didn't like the sound of that. "Different how? And different why?"

He chuckled. "Come see me." An hour later I was standing with him outside a newly completed coach. "Have you ever heard of "Regan Thompson?"

"Isn't she a painter?" I had no idea who she was or if she painted or sold shoes and really didn't care.

"Maybe, but I'm thinking of a different Regan Thompson. The one I'm thinking about is one of the newest big music stars, and this is his coach. It's also his first personal one. He has been traveling with his band in a used coach he bought from another singer, but has decided he wants one just for himself and his family. That's not unusual for the bigger stars. We build one or two a year for them."

"HIS coach? Isn't Regan a girl's name?"

"Not in this case."

"It doesn't matter. What's the deal with his coach?"

He took a deep breath. "He paid over a million dollars for it, and he wants to drive it himself. He's spent a lot of time RIDING on these things as he was developing a following, but now that he's a big star, he wants his own private one and he wants to drive it himself. The problem is, the biggest thing he's ever driven is an F-250 Pickup truck, so he wants someone to teach him to drive it." He looked directly at me. "And he wants that person to be you."

"Ohhhhh noooo, you don't. There are more senior people than me, and more qualified. What about Ryan?"

"Tim Ryan? No can do. He wants you."

"How can he want me? He doesn't even know me."

"No, but he knows how you drive."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember a couple of months ago you took that band coach to the dealer in Chattanooga, but it was supposed to go to their Nashville location?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Thompson had been in Chattanooga making a personal appearance. As he was driving home to Nashville, he got behind you on the Interstate. Since he was getting his first coach soon, he thought he'd follow you just for fun. He followed you for two hours and was impressed by the way you drove; especially over Monteagle."

"What is Monteagle?" I asked.

"It's a section of I-24 outside of Chattanooga. It isn't the longest, highest, or steepest mountain grade in the country but for some reason, it's long 6% descent is deceptive and treacherous, especially in inclement weather. Drivers tend to be a bit careless the first time they drive it."

"I never noticed it."

"That's because you had a jake brake."

A jake brake is a system in large vehicles designed to help slow it without applying the brake pedal. It uses the compression of the engine to reduce.....blah, blah, blah. I don't know how the fucking thing works. All I know is when the vehicle starts to go down a hill, the driver just takes his (or her) foot off of the accelerator and it slows the vehicle without having to apply the brakes. If you've ever been near a big truck or bus/coach and heard a loud popping noise, it was probably the jake brake. It saves lots of wear on the braking systems of big, heavy vehicles. "Anyway, this big star followed me."

"That's right. He liked the way you handled the coach in traffic and decided that he wanted you to teach him to drive his. He saw the name of the coach and knew it was the same company building his so he decided to see if the driver, that would be you, could teach him. He's going to California to make his first movie and thought it would be nice to go out there in his new coach."

"You're joking."

"Do I act like I'm joking?"

"I'm really not qualified to...."

"Damn it, Jason. He spent over a million fucking dollars and he wants you to help him. It's no big deal. All you have to do is take the coach to Nashville, pick up him and his family, take them to California and teach him to drive on the way."

He rushed through the last part of his statement then turned away from me. I looked at him. "Excuse me. What did you just say?"

He turned back to me. "You heard me. He wants you to bring the coach to Nashville."

"I understand that part. It's the next part I don't care for. The 'taking him to California part'! Are you serious? Is he serious?"

"He's serious enough to pay you five grand for a week's work. Plus a first class flight back here when you get them there."

That was a pretty impressive number and got my attention. "Okay. Suppose I do this. How many of his family will be going and how many does this thing sleep?"

"Him, his wife, their two children and his sister. The coach sleeps six, but you won't be sleeping in the coach, you'll be sleeping in motels. It should take you about three or four days if everything goes right. His 'people' will make arrangements for motels every day depending on how far you get." He paused and looked at me. "Come on, Jason. What do you have to lose? You're getting a lot of money to spend time with a famous star. It can't be all bad, can it?"

He was right, of course. "When do I leave?"

"As soon as you can get ready. He's anxious to get started."

"Okay. I'll leave in the morning."

"Good. Let's stop in the office and Kat will give you his personal phone number and address. He wants you to call him when you get a couple of hours away from his place.

I spent the rest of the day familiarizing myself with everything on that million-dollar coach. I had never towed a car, but was concerned that Regan Thompson might want to do that, so I asked Kat to call him and see if he wanted us to do that.

"Mr. Thompson, this is Kat again. Jason is here and he has a question for you." There was a pause. "Okay. Here he is." She handed the phone to me.

"This is Jason."

"Jason. Good to speak with you. I'm Regan. What's your question?"

"Were you planning on towing a car on our little jaunt?"

"Nah. The studio is furnishing a car for us, so I don't need one of mine."

"Good that makes it a bit easier. When you practice backing the coach, we won't have to unhook and hook the car."

He chuckled. "I had the same thought. How long do you think it will take us?"

"Depends on you, I suppose, and how much time you want to spend taking smaller back roads and driving through cities."

"Why would we do that? I thought we'd get on I-40 and haul ass."

"Anybody can get on the interstate and 'haul ass', but small roads and cities is where you learn to drive."

"You're right, and I know it. I want to do it right if I'm going to do it. When will you be here?"

"I'm leaving in the morning and it's about 600 miles so why don't we say day after tomorrow? I can be there any time you want."