Starting Over

The woman did look pathetic. I asked her what I could do for her.

"Hide me -- in your cab -- at least for a little while. I've been beaten and I'm afraid that the guy that beat me is looking for me," she replied.

"Should we call the cops?" I asked.

"No! No!" she said softly but with great intensity. "It was a cop that beat me."

I had been intending to go to the restaurant for supper. Instead, I opened up the passenger door, motioned to her and said, "Up you go."

I got in on the driver's side. "I don't want to grill you or try to get you to tell me things you do not want to reveal. But I'd appreciate any more information you can give me so that I know what I'm working with here and how I can help. But before we even get into that, have you eaten or drunk anything today?"

"Not since breakfast," she replied, "and that was just a cup of coffee."

I reached in my little refrigerator and got her a bottle of water. "Here," I said, "start with this. We don't need you to get dehydrated. While you sip on this and decide what you want to tell me, I'm going over to the restaurant to get some supper. It's just fast food. What would you like -- I'm buying. I will enjoy having company for supper."

She asked for a sandwich, no fries, but a chocolate shake and a large cola -- no ice. I told her that if she wanted to remain completely hidden she could crawl up into the sleeper and nobody would know she was there. I would lock up the cab of the truck when I went for food. She crawled up into the sleeper. I locked the driver's door and the passenger door and went to get food. I was back in about ten minutes and let myself in. As I was walking toward the truck I checked it out. I had parked in a place where if I did not turn on any lights in the cab, no one would be able to see into the cab to know that she was there.

She came down from the sleeper. I handed her her supper. I was glad that I got her the large sized sandwich. She wolfed it down like she was starving. I decided I would try to help her feel more comfortable in my presence. I held out my hand to her. "I'm Steve. I'm a second career truck driver. I used to be a pastor -- a minister of religion -- a reverend -- a preacher -- do you know what I mean?"

"Yah. After the first three alternates I got the picture. I'm Lou -- that's short for Louise. Pleased to meet'cha," she said.

I continued. "I became a truck driver when my wife divorced me because I wouldn't let her have a dog. My church won't let a man be a pastor if he's been divorced, so I needed another job. That's how I became a truck driver. I have three children. One daughter is angry with me because she thinks I should have let her mother have the dog. I did not want to have the dog because I have allergies to all animals with fur or hair. It would have made me sick. I don't communicate with my ex-wife. I do call or email my other two children from time to time. So it's a real treat to have some companionship for a change. That's my story in a nutshell."

Lou began. "I'm sorry your wife divorced you. She seems to be a very controlling and selfish person. But I'm glad you're a truck driver and that you showed up to be here today. Until this morning I was a dancer at a tittie bar in town. I got that job to help me pay my way through college. My life went off the rails when I let the owner of the bar pay for me to get my breasts enhanced. He said he would do it as a loan and that the increased revenue I would get from having my breasts enlarged would enable me to pay him off with interest in a short amount of time.

"So a few weeks ago I got my implants and by now they are pretty well healed. In the short time off from dancing that I had to let them heal, I looked up possible internet jobs I could do to earn more money and pay off my debt sooner. I'm an English major and have had some serious courses in grammar, punctuation and the like. I found a company that was hiring on-line proofreaders so I applied. I was hired and was given my first assignment. They liked what I did so gave me more work. So before I even went back to dancing, I went to the owner of the club and gave him a small payment to begin paying off what I owed him for the boob job.

"He got angry and by the middle of his tirade I understood that he wanted me to pay off the debt by turning tricks -- you know -- being a prostitute. This morning one of the guys that works as a bouncer at the club came to my apartment, barged in, smashed my computer and beat me up, telling me I was to use my tits to make money, not my computer and to show up at the bar at three in the afternoon. He was wearing his uniform. He's a cop as well as security at the club and an enforcer for the boss.

"As soon as I was sure he was gone, I ran. The bar is on the north side of town. I figured that if they thought I had run, they would look north, east and west and not expect me to go all the way through town. But I got on a bus to downtown, then transferred to another bus to take me south of town, and then I walked out into the country until I got to the Turnpike. I crawled over the fence onto the Turnpike's right-of-way and followed the fence line here, hoping I'd find a sympathetic female trucker I could approach for help.

"I'd been hiding there in the bushes for a couple of hours, but never spotted the female truck driver. Then you drove up. You almost came right to me, although I don't think you saw me at all. I noticed you had a license plate type thing on the front of your truck that mentioned the name of a church. I was never brought up in the church, but got the impression that Christians, in general, try to be good people. You know -- the hospitals, the homeless shelters, the food banks, the homes for battered women, help for single pregnant women -- stuff like that. It was getting dark and I didn't want to be out there in the dark, so I approached you, hoping you would help me. And you did. Thank you."

"Ooookay Lou," I said. "That's a lot for me to digest. Let me sleep on it for a while. I've had a long day. I need to get my sleep before driving more tomorrow. --- Tell you what: You can either sleep in that seat -- it's not too uncomfortable, or you can join me in the sleeper. It would be a little crowded but neither one of us are huge people; I think we can make it work. It's fairly warm, so we don't need a blanket, but we'll use one anyway. I'll sleep under the blanket and you can sleep on top of it. You can sleep with your head down by my feet and your feet up my my head and I think you can feel safe. Also, I will let you sleep closest to the way into and out of the compartment so that you do not feel trapped.

"But unless you feel that I am going to hurt you, be here tomorrow morning when I wake up, so that we can figure out what you need to do next to keep safe." I went back to the store in the rest area to use the restroom and to buy some bowls, milk and cereal. When I came back I stood guard so that Lou could do her business in the bushes. It was a good thing I bought food for breakfast because in the morning I saw three cop cars at the rest area -- two turnpike patrol and one local city police. I went in to the restroom to do my business, came out and bought an extra large coffee. The parking lot was filled with trucks by now and my rig was no longer parked by itself. There were many trucks parked between the store and my rig. Rather than walking up to the rest rooms, when I returned to the cab and told Lou of the cops at the store, Lou got out of the cab and once again retreated back into the bushes to relieve herself. I carried TP in the cab.

We had milk and cereal for breakfast and shared the large mug of coffee. Lou wanted to stay with me -- at least for a while -- at least until we were out of Indiana. After doing a full inspection of the rig we started off for the day. We talked about what was next. If she would choose to stay with me for a while, I'd buy her a new computer so that she could use my satellite internet service and start earning money by proofreading. We would also have to stop and buy her a few items of clothing as she had only the clothes on her back.

By the end of the day she was exploring with me whether she could stay with me for a while -- a week -- a few weeks -- a month -- a few months. Finally, I told her she could stay with me as long as she wanted to and if I began to have problems with that I would tell her and give her a week to make alternate plans.

The next day I brought up the next logical item of business. She had gotten in trouble by having a man loan her some money. Then he wanted to turn her out. I didn't know if he was connected to organized crime or not, but I'd like to sever the ties if he was, just so that I wasn't always feeling like I had to be looking over my shoulder. I saw no other way out. I needed to do this for my own peace of mind. I suggested that we take the money out of my retirement account plus one year's interest and transfer it to her checking account.. She would then write a check to her boss for the cost of the boob job plus interest. On the back of the check where her boss would endorse the check she printed, "The act of endorsing and cashing this check acknowledges that the loan originally extend to Louise Franke has been repaid in full and no more payment is expected or required." She put this in a stamped envelope addressed to her boss in Indiana. She put that envelope in a larger envelope and mailed it to a dependable friend there in Indiana and had that friend mail the check to her boss. Hopefully that would get her former boss off her back.

We stopped off at a mall that was right off the highway on our way to St. Louis. There Lou bought one low rise snug fitting pair of jeans, a couple pair of yoga pants, a pair of booty shorts and a few tops including a couple of crop tops. She bought some good underwear at Victoria's Secret and another pair of athletic shoes. She asked repeatedly if I minded her riding along for a while while she escaped Indiana and I always repeated that I loved having the company if she could stand the cramped sleeping quarters. We bought her a laptop so she could continue her proof-reading business. I was a people person and enjoyed this opportunity to have someone riding along with me. As far as I was concerned she was doing me almost as big a favor as I was doing her.

Once we got to Missouri Lou was no longer afraid to be seen and to get out of the cab to use the facilities at a rest area. A routine quickly evolved. We would eat one meal a day at some kind of rest area, truck stop or fast food restaurant. Following my fitness routine, we ran together, lifted weights together and used the elastic bands to get our exercise. When Lou was not proofreading, we listened to interviews of different people on public radio or listened to some of my talking books. On her first Friday in the truck, I told Lou that I normally went to church on Sunday, and I would be glad if she went with me but would not hold it against her if she chose not to.

Her only comment was that if she was going to church, she would need a dress. We stopped at a mall. She bought a dress that fit like a second skin. The bottom hem came to the middle of her thighs. There was a plunging U neckline. If she didn't have such a fit body, the dress would have looked slutty. As it was it she looked gorgeous. I wasn't sure whether the ladies of the church would like it, but I was proud to be seen with Lou and I told her so -- more than once.

We went to church on Sunday morning and I experienced something I had never felt before. Being the pastor I never got to sit with my family in church. This was really a wonderful feeling sitting in church next to someone I cared for. And that is when it hit me that I was developing feelings for Lou. After the service she had all kinds of questions for me. I had my own hymnal and we got it out and I explained things about the service to her. I explained that when people went up to the front of the church for the Sacrament, I could have done that, too, but I didn't want her to sit there alone. But if she would like to go up with me, if she went through a period of instruction so that she learned all about what was happening, she would be accepted as a member of the church and would be invited to come forward to receive the Sacrament, too. She thought that would be a good idea.

At Lou's suggestion, rather than listening to talking books, she could read aloud to me while we were driving. We added that to our daily activities. I was still getting theological journals and she would read them to me as well as books. At times I would need her to read a paragraph or two over again because the topic was so complex I needed to re-read it and think about it carefully. At times Lou would interrupt and ask questions about what she was reading. We would stop at used book stores and buy some books and sell books we had read to the bookstore. She would read books that I had picked out and I gladly listened as she read books that she had picked out. She was, after all, an English major. She picked very good literature.

Lou wrote the postmaster at her city in Indiana to forward her mail to my Post Office Box. I had talked to the pastor and had become a member of a church in the city that was the headquarters for the trucking company. Now I emailed the pastor asking if the pastor would allow me to instruct Lou in the doctrines and practices of the church. Then, the next time we were in town, the pastor could talk with Lou and make sure that I did a good job, and if I did, Lou could become a member of the church as well. Six weeks later that happened. It was a very special moment for me that first time that I walked with Lou down the aisle to the front of the church when she was received into membership. We came forward again later in the service to receive the Sacrament together.

We lived frugally and with a minimum of stuff, but did get a few more clothes for Lou from time to time. Lou liked stretch clothing and clothing that molded itself to her body. In warm places she loved showing off her bare abdomen and long dancer's legs. She had a few booty shorts and micro miniskirts. I timed my driving so that we could go dancing at least one night on the weekend. We went on other dates as well: concerts, movies and dinners at nice restaurants. Sometimes we would splurge and stay overnight at a bed and breakfast. We truly enjoyed all the time we spent together and the different things we did with one another.

About six weeks after we had started to travel together, Lou received her latest bank statement electronically. He former boss had cashed her check paying for her boob job. We were relatively certain that he would not try to come after her.

Shortly after that an interesting incident happened. Lou tells me that about an hour before we would be ready to pull into a truck stop and park for the night she saw a sign for a club, but didn't mention it to me. But then, about 20 minutes later she saw another billboard advertising the same club. It was a new club, just opening, that featured exotic dancers. It also mentioned that in order to bring in customers to the newly opened club there would be an amateur dance contest each night.

Lou started talking about her dancing. She loved to dance. She had taken dance lessons when in Junior High and High School. When she went to college, she was able to take some dance classes that would serve to fill her requirements for PE. She actually liked stripping. She understood that she was somewhat of an exhibitionist. She loved showing off and being seen and liked it when men showed their appreciation for her. Obviously, she had no desire to take it to a next step where she would have sex with people in the club. She had run away from her precious employer to keep that from happening.

Then she hit me with it. Could she sign up and dance tonight at amateur night? We talked about it.

"First of all, you need to realize that you do not need my permission to do anything. Just because I'm giving you a ride does not mean I own you. You are free to do as you want.," I said.

"But I want you to go with me. I want you to see me dance. I want you to see why I enjoy it so much. And when you think of me during the next day I want to to think of me the way I looked up on that stage. I want you to understand -- I hope that you will understand -- how much I enjoy being up there and dancing in front of people. Will you go with me -- Please?" she pleaded.

If I were still a pastor and she were my wife and this club was in the same neighborhood as my church, I'm sure I couldn't do it. But I'm not a pastor, she is not my wife, this is not a town in which I live and work. I know that she does not want to dance as a prelude to prostituting herself. It is really important to her that she wants me to be there for her. All these thoughts ran through my head.

I knew that people who would condemn me for going into the club would say that dancing and watching such dancers cause sinful desires to arise in the heart of the viewer. Is that always the case? If so, is it the dancer's fault? Can a person watch an exotic dancer without getting sinful desires? Can a person get sinful desires without seeing an exotic dance? The more I thought the more complex the issue became.

Finally, I said to myself, "I'm not in the ministry. No one is going to get bent out of shape if I go in there to watch Lou dance. She wants me there and wants to share this moment with me. I care for her enough that if she wants me there, then I want to be there for her."

"Okay," I said to her. "If you want me there, I want to be there for you. Count me in."

We were driving down the highway, seated in the front of the cab. I got the impression that if we would have been standing together talking she would have thrown her arms around me and given me a big hug. Instead, she tried to explain in words how much she appreciated my saying yes to her. Squealing her delight would be putting it mildly.

The truck stop was very close to the exotic club. We ate supper at the truck stop and then she wanted to hit the showers. While eating she filled me in on what to expect at the club. She had become very adept at getting dressed in the sleeper and got dressed in record time. However, putting on makeup and jewelry as she sat in the cab took much longer than usual. I changed into a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt.

When she was ready to go to the club, I exited the cab, locked up my side, and went to help her out of her side. She had on a pair of high platform acrylic heels, a pleated micro miniskirt, a G-string thong and a bandeau top across her massive chest.

As we walked to the club she said, "This will be the first time I will have danced with these augmented tits. When my boss wanted me to get them done, I agreed that it would be the right thing. I have a very nice, rounded, generous butt, but my tits looked somewhat out of place in comparison. So I thought all he had in mind was that I would look so much better if I had bigger boobs when I danced. He, of course, had other things in mind. But he was right about the boobs.

"I can hardly wait to get in there to dance. They usually have a mirror or mirrors at one end of the dance floor. I will be able to see myself -- the entire package -- for the first time. I'm really excited.

We went up to the bartender to ask about entering the amateur contest. He pointed us to the DJ. We went to see him. In signing Lou up, he asked her whether she had ever danced professionally before. Of course, she had to answer in the affirmative. He wouldn't sign her up. She was really disappointed. We ordered drinks from the bar and moved to a table to talk.

"What if I were to dance but just not be included in the contest?" she asked me.