On a Long and Lonesome Highway

Here is my attempt at a slow burn lesbian romance. I will not be doing a sequel to this. No sex until towards the end. I did mention that it was a slow burn. Feel free to do any spin-offs you wish but reference this story in the introduction or somewhere else if you do. It should be obvious where my inspiration came from. Just look up the song. Turn the Page. No, not the whole song, just the first stanza.

Long and Lonesome Highway:

On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. Actually, dudes, I'm nowhere near Omaha. I'm actually somewhere in Arizona. As usual, I'm in the sleeper compartment of my rig, getting ready to sack out for the night. It was a pretty good day today. I put over 700 miles in my mirror. I made good time and didn't encounter any idiots on the road today. I should make my destination by noon tomorrow, then I've got another load to pick up and head back East. Who knows, maybe I will actually go to Omaha this time. Anywhere but -- THERE! Sorry, I shouldn't be thinking of that. It begins to bring the darkness back to me.

I've been getting better, though. I haven't thought about THERE in a while. I think that what brought it back to me was at the truck stop I'm parked in for the night. It was kind of late when I pulled in, so I figured I'd get some dinner before crashing out. There was a new waitress tonight. I've been here several times before, but this was the first time I have seen her. She was pretty, gorgeous even. Long blonde hair, sparkling light blue eyes. A figure with so many hairpin curves that it would be a slow drive to check them all out. Very friendly too. She was even flirting with me. Yeah, not going there. She was probably just doing it to increase her tips. She's probably just like all the other ones. She even reminded me of -- HER. I think that's what is bringing the darkness back again.

It probably wasn't hard for her to suspect that I'm gay. I don't really hide it. No point really. Not that I've done anything about it for the last 10-years. I tried a couple times, but every time I just saw -- HER. Laughing. Taunting. Yes, I've told you guys all about that before. Several times. I won't repeat it tonight. I watched as she was flirting with all the other truckers in the diner as well. She was just like all the rest. Flirting gets better tips. She didn't care about me. No one cares about me.

Thought about maybe going into the bar next door. There's a problem with bars, though. Bars have people in them. A diner is OK. I get my own both and I am left alone. Usually. Bastards wouldn't even let me back in after I paid for the window I throw that asshole out of. Fuck it. They had lousy food anyway. Bars are different. Assholes see an attractive woman drinking alone and automatically think she needs some company. If I did, it wouldn't be them.

That's all for tonight. Catch ya tomorrow -- probably.

Lonesome signing off.

I clicked to post it to my blog, then shut down my laptop. I have no idea if anyone actually reads it. I really don't care, that's not the point of it. I write it because a therapist I saw a couple of times suggested that maybe writing my thoughts down would help. Who knows. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. It doesn't matter. It's just something that I do. Maybe there's someone out there that reads it and feels better knowing that their life isn't nearly as shitty as mine is. Regulations state that I need to be off for 10 hours before driving again. I should probably get some sleep. I got out of the truck to smoke my last cigarette of the day. Once that was done, it was time to rack out.

Tasha:

God, what a long day it was. Waiting tables in the diner of that miserable truck stop. Pretending to be friendly and flirting with all the customers there, just to get better tips from them. Sure, there were a lot of nice guys there, but there were a significant portion of complete assholes. Over the last month that I had been working there, I had learned very quickly how to move to avoid the roaming hands that targeted my ass. Perverts. God, I hated that. On the upside, at least my abusive former boyfriends would never find me here. There was one nice thing today. A trucker that I had never seen before came in. She was fucking gorgeous. Long red hair, lithe body, beautiful face, moved like a panther stalking her prey. OK, so the boyfriend was a mistake on multiple levels. Not only was he an abusive cheating asshole, but even going out with him in the beginning had been a bad idea. It was mainly to convince myself that I wasn't really a lesbian. I found out that I actually am, thus the two days in the hospital when I tried to break up with him. I left town two days before he was released from the county jail.

Anyway, back to the woman. I stopped dead in my tracks the instant she walked in. I don't know what it was about her, but she just caught my full attention. I prayed, and God actually answered my prayers as she sat in my section. It wasn't until I got to her table to hand her a menu that I saw it. She looked up at me, and I saw a deep sorrowness in her deep green eyes. She did smile at me, and she responded to my flirting, be there was no real depth to it. It was as if she was just trying to humor me. In reality, she would have been the only one that I would have meant it with. If she would have offered, I would have beaten her back to the cab of her truck, or taken her to the trailer I was renting behind the Truckstop. Fuck it, I would have drug her to one of the rooms in the attached motel.

Oh well. Such is life. I'll probably never see her again. With resignation, I opened my computer and went online. I pulled up one of my favorite sites. It was a blog I had stumbled onto a few months ago. I was surprised that there were over 1,000 followers to it. I don't know what it was, but it captured my imagination. There was never anything that could remotely identify the writer. There were a few photos of highway scenery, and you could see the Kenworth logo on the front of the truck, but not a single picture of the rest of the truck or her. Yes, it was definitely a her that wrote it. Either that, or a guy with a fantastic imagination.

Awesome! A new post. I began not read. She started it out with the same line as every other post. 'On a lonely lonesome highway.....' As I read the post, two things struck me. First, she mentioned that she had never seen the waitress before. I can assure you that I had never before seen the red-haired, green-eyed goddess that came in today before either. That makes me pretty sure that she had never seen me before either. I definitely would have remembered that. The second thing was that she mentioned being in Arizona. No, that would just be way too much of a coincidence. I was impossible. There were millions of miles of roads in this country. Thousands of miles just here in Arizona. True, women are only a small percentage of truck drivers, especially solo drivers, but there are still thousands of them out there. The odds of my redheaded beauty being the same Lonesome that had captured my fantasies with her words were just too astronomical to comprehend. Still, one can imagine, can't they? My vibrator sure agreed with me that night.

Lonesome:

On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. Hi again. Another day on the road. Nope. Still not anywhere near Omaha. I'm on a lonely highway in Nevada. I passed a few brothels on the way. Had a fleeting thought of stopping and seeing if any of them did women, but I just kept driving. I can't do one-night stands. Then again, I can't seem to do relationships either. Relationships mean pain. They cut out your heart and soul.

I thought about that waitress again today. It's been a month since I've been to that Truckstop. I wonder if she's still there. Maybe I'll take that rout on my way to drop this load. It's not really that far out of my way. Probably better if I just avoid that place all together. Nothing good could come from that. Just another broken piece of me left behind. I don't have that many pieces left to lose. I don't know. Something seems to be pulling me back there. I can't seem to get her out of my mind.

Anyway, this was a short one tonight. Time to rack out. Need to be on the road early tomorrow.

Lonesome

As it is every night, I had one more cigarette and climbed into my bunk. For some reason, that cute little blonde at the diner simply wouldn't leave my mind.

Tasha:

It's been three months since I saw her. I still can't get her out of my mind. I asked a couple of the people I work with if they knew anything about her. Marge, the senior waitress here warned me off of her. Marge is in her 50s and has been here forever. "Leave that one alone. I don't know what happened to her, but she is damaged goods. You don't want anything to do with her."

Well, that didn't help anything. No one even knew her name. She never used a card, always paying in cash. Her fuel purchases were done through a corporate card that didn't even have her name on it. I was trying to forget about her, but I just couldn't. I know it was stupid of me. Seriously, I worked in a Truckstop out in the middle of nowhere. The odds were that I would most likely never see her again. Hell, I wasn't even sure how much longer I was going to be here. The longer I stayed, the better the chances that Andy would find me. I had heard from of few of my friends that I still had contact with that he was still looking for me, and he was PISSED that I left.

Anyway, enough obsessing over a woman I had seen exactly once in my life. Time to start obsessing over the woman who had stolen my soul with her words. I smiled as I opened the door to the trailer I was staying in and looked forward to a new post from Lonesome.

Lonesome:

On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. Sorry for not posting yesterday. Had some trouble and needed to get the fuck out of Dodge. Instead of finishing my dinner and racking out in the sleeper, I scrambled out of the diner, fired up my rig and drove across two states to put some distance between myself and the catastrophe. Not sure how badly hurt those three guys were, but I wasn't gonna take any chances. Yes, they deserved it, but you can never tell what the legal system will do. Fuckers. Yeah, my military training came in handy yesterday. Not that they will ever see this, but a shout-out of thanks to the five drivers that pulled out of the stop with me to help mask my escape. Thanks, dudes. No idea if it actually helped, but better safe than sorry. Anyway, that's another stop I can never go back to. Need to avoid the whole area from now on. Shit, I really liked that Truckstop too.

That's it for now. Been running for over 20-hours. Time to hit the bunk. I'm gonna have to do some creative writing in my logbook tomorrow.

Lonesome

After posting, I climbed out of my rig for my last cigarette of the night. I was still pissed at what happened. I would say that I don't know why I did it, but that would be a lie. I know exactly why I beat the fuck out of those three guys. I've never liked bullies to begin with. True, I've gotten pretty damned good at minding my own business and not getting involved, but I just couldn't walk away from this one. They were hassling that cute waitress. They were trying to force her to leave with them. It sounded like one of them was an old boyfriend coming to take her back with him. She obviously didn't want to go. He had two goons with him for backup. Fuckers were big, but they had exactly zero training in combat. I had been an MP for 4-years in the worst hellhole on the planet. I took every training class on hand-to-hand combat that I could. OK, I could have simply just put them down and left it at that, but I got pissed. The rage that was usually set to low simmer blew up into a full rolling boil. Most people would probably be OK with a simple defense of another person. DA's tend to frown on it when you go far beyond simply defending someone. Applying a calculated painful and damaging beating to someone that you have already incapacitated is something that the legal system frowns on.

Oh, about those five guys that gave me the distraction. After seeing the destruction I had rained down on those three assholes, I figured I had best get as much distance between myself and any cops that were going to be arriving soon. I figured that someone had called 911. As I left the diner, I saw five other guys following me out. My first thought was that they were either more friends of theirs, or that they were going to try and detain me until the cops showed up. When I I got to the edge of the parking lot, I spun around to face them. I probably wasn't going to beat all five of them, but I would make damned sure that they paid dearly for whatever they tried to do.

"Easy there." The one in the lead said, holding his hands up in front of himself. "We just figured that six rigs leaving at the same time would make it harder for anyone to identify a single truck than that single truck leaving alone. We get out of sight of this place, then you can turn off and head wherever you need to go. Them boys deserved what they got. We just want to help you out a bit."

Well, that kind of surprised me, but I would take the assist from them. I nodded my thanks and turned to my rig. I was the fourth truck in the line leaving the stop heading West. 10-miles down the road, I gave two blasts of my horn, waved my gratitude and took the exit. I drove to the next highway heading East and put the hammer down. Let them look West. I was heading in the other direction. Just another lone truck on the lonely lonesome highway.

Oh well, I sighed as I stubbed out the butt of my cigarette with the toe of my boot. She was straight anyway. Not like there was ever a chance in hell of anything happening anyway. Just another fantasy for a lonely wanderer destined to roam alone. I climbed back into my steel shell and got ready for another night of peaceful oblivion.

Tasha:

It's been one hell of a couple days. To start with, the beautiful redhaired trucker was back. I was happy to see her, but I still haven't gotten her name. She only said that 'Hon' would do. That's what I called her the first time I saw her. I had come up to her table and said, "What can I get for ya, Hon?" Hon is short for Honey. It's my standard greeting for customers when I don't know their name. She ordered a staple of Truck stops across the country -- Chicken Fried Steak. She had commented that ours was the best she had ever had. Unfortunately, the day went completely to shit moments later.

I had just set her order down. I was checking on one of my other tables, when I heard the voice that I hoped to never hear again.

"Hello, Tash. You were hard to find. I've come to take you home again."

I spun around in dread. There he was. Andy. All 6'1", 195-pounds of lean muscle. Worse yet, Greg and Henry, his two muscle-bound neanderthal friends were standing behind him.

"Andy. I broke up with you after you put me in the hospital. I'm not going anywhere with you. We're finished!" I replied back.

"Nonsense. You are coming home with me. Sluts don't break up with me, I break up with them. Now, you can come easy, or I'm gonna drag your ass out of here. Also, I told Greg and Henry that you would be thanking them properly for taking the time to help you get back home. They've been anticipating that all the way here."

Oh fuck. I was in trouble. I glanced around. It was a really slow evening. Other than the redhead, there were a half dozen other truckers, but they were out of shape and would be no match against these three. There was also a family at one of the far booths. No help there. I'm sure Marge would call 911, but it would take too long for the police to get here unless I was lucky enough for a sheriff or highway patrol to be close already. I was not feeling particularly luck at the moment.

"Hey Dickless. She said she doesn't want anything to do with you, so why don't you and the two brainless meatheads with you just ooze back under whatever rock slime like you comes from."

I couldn't believe it. The redheaded trucker had stood up and threw the gauntlet down at their feet. She was a bit tall at 5'8" and lean. She always wore jeans and loose shirts, so I had no idea if she was muscular, but she didn't seem fat. She also moved with the grace of a panther stalking prey. It didn't matter; she had no chance against even one of these guys, and I knew them well enough to know that they wouldn't even give her that chance.

All three of them laughed. "Well, this is an added bonus. Greg, Henry, why don't you tow invite her to come along as well. After all, it's a long trip back, and two sluts will be more entertaining than one."

She was standing about 10-feet away. After Adam finished talking, I saw an evil smirk cross her face. She was about to get manhandled, kidnapped and raped by those two Neanderthals, and she was actually excited about it. How sick could she be? After Greg and Henry had taken their second step towards her, she moved. It wasn't the move I expected. She should have turned and ran. Instead, she moved towards us. I saw her first movement, then the acceleration. Do you remember those old Loony Toons cartoons? The ones with the Tasmanian Devil? Whenever he moves, it's in a whirlwind. Yeah, that's what I was reminded of. She was so fast, that it was over almost before it started. In seconds, those two goons were on the floor, barely conscious. Then, she turned back to Andy.

"You and your two butt-buddies need a lesson in respecting women. This won't be an easy lesson for you three, but, in the end, you will either have learned to respect women, or you will be so terrified of them that you turn to fucking guys."

With that, she moved in. It was horrifying to watch. She was methodical and absolutely brutal. Andy tried his best, but he never landed a single blow. She knew exactly what she was doing and made it as painful as possible. When she was done, all three of them were curled up on the floor, moaning in agony.

She turned and walked back to her table. With a heavy sigh, she took one mouthful of her food, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, dropped it on the table and walked towards the door. The last thing I heard before she got to the door was her sad voice saying, "Damn. Really going to miss the food here."

As she left, I saw five other truckers follow her out. Through the door, it looked like another confrontation was about to take place, but then they all turned and walked to their trucks.

"Jimmy!" Marge called out. "We still have that old broken video recorder for the security cameras laying around?"

"Yeah. I was about to toss it out but hadn't gotten around to it yet." He replied.

"Good. Take the new recorder out and hide it somewhere. Put the broken one back in its place. Hurry it up, we don't have much time." She ordered.

Marge then turned to everyone else. "Now, I know what y'all THINK ya might have seen. The thing is, that wasn't what really happened. What REALLY happened, is that these three assholes came in here and insulted a woman that was with a group of bikers that were getting ready to leave. The bikers took exception to that, and six of those big bikers bear the ever-lovin'-shit out of these three lowlifes. They were all men that beat them. When they got done beatin' these three, they went out, got on their Harleys and rode off. Now, did that clear up everything?"

Everyone nodded their acceptance. There was just one question. "What about them? Won't they tell the cops something different than what we say?" One person asked.

"You think these guys want everyone knowing they got their asses handed to them by some skinny girl? Besides, I plan on having it explained to them that if they don't go along with our story, the next beating they get will actually be by a dozen or more bikers, and it won't be nearly as painless." Marge explained.