R Finch - No longer virgin

"Well, how old do you think I am?" Wendy laughed.

"Oh… sixteen?" he guessed, glanced over at her.

"I'm eighteen," she laughed. "Everybody says that. That I look so young. I'll probably look twenty when I'm forty. I'm lucky, I guess. People tell me that, anyway."

"Always lucky to look young," Marshall nodded with a smile.

Wendy settled back, tried to stretch her legs. She really didn't have that much room. She pushed her knapsack aside slightly, got as comfortable as she could manage.

"How far is it to Los Angeles from here?" she asked.

"I don't know for sure," Marshall shook his head. "I've never been there. Never been out of Tennessee, actually. I figure, though, we should get into L.A. sometime late tomorrow night. Hell, it'll take us the rest of the clay just to get across Texas. It's pleasant enough country, though."

"It sure is," Wendy agreed, tensed when a huge semi-trailer truck rolled past them, almost blew them off the road. "God!"

"Yeah, those boys drive like crazy out here on this open road," Marshall said. "If I had a newer car, I'd just stay right behind one of those big rigs all the way. They do about eighty, got a radio, tell each other where the police is. They slow down, and sure enough, you'll always come across a Highway Patrol car, sitting about a mile up the road."

"I'm in no hurry," Wendy said.

"Oh, just relax now. I've been driving since I was ten years old. I'll get us there all right."

"I hope so," Wendy laughed.

"Marsh, you didn't have to pay for my dinner," Wendy said, shook her head with a laugh. "I have enough money."

They had just passed through the small Texas town of Odessa, were once again driving across the open prairie. It was dark out, not a cloud overhead, and the moon illuminated the desert rushing by them with an eerie glow. Wendy could make out the outline of a ridge of mountains, off to the side and before them, still miles ahead.

"Well, I know I didn't have to, girl," Marshall said. "You just hang on to your money, though. You're going to need every penny you've got when you hit Los Angeles. Besides, you might just make it big in the movies or something, never can tell, and, if you do, just remember old Marshall Tucker bought your supper once. Anyhow," he laughed, "you're sure pretty enough to be one of those Hollywood starlets and all."

"Oh, Marsh!" she laughed. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls you pick up hitchhiking."

"I never picked up a hitchhiker before," he said, glanced at her with a smile. "I never liked the idea of maybe catching a knife in the ribs when I wasn't looking. Never can tell, you know."

"Why did you stop for me, then?" she asked.

"Oh… you looked harmless enough. Kind of like an injured bird sitting there by the side of the road." He laughed at her expression.

Wendy shook her head with a smile, stared out the window.

"This looks like as good a place as any to get some sleep," Marshall was saying, pulled over into the roadside rest area. He stopped the car and cut the lights. They were still almost two hours from El Paso.

Wendy sat up. In the darkness she could make out several covered picnic tables, just as many stone barbecue pits, and two rest-rooms, separate out-buildings, sided with cedar strips. A semi-trailer truck and a few cars already occupied the short cut-off road and Marshall had parked as far from them as possible.

"Have you ever slept outside?" he asked her.

"When I was a kid, we used to camp out in the backyard during the summer a lot. I can handle it." She smiled at him.

"I've only got one sleeping bag and you can use it. I've got some extra blankets I'll just throw on the ground for myself. It's going to get pretty cold tonight. This desert doesn't hold the heat from the day too well."

"I don't want to take your sleeping bag," Wendy protested. "I can sleep with just the blankets. That's all I really need."

"Don't worry about it. You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"No," she laughed, and jumped out of the car to stretch her legs. She walked around a bit, felt good to be in the cool night air. She looked back to Marshall.

He was pulling a handful of tangled blankets from the back seat, carried them over to a spot beside one of the picnic tables. He dropped them, went back for the sleeping bag.

"I can help," Wendy said, and walked to the car. From the passenger's side she managed to locate the sleeping bag, tugged it out. She unrolled it, then dragged it over near the blankets Marshall had arranged on the grass. "Right here?" she asked.

"Sure," he nodded. "Have you got everything you need out of the car?"

"I think…"

He walked to the car, locked both of the doors, then came back to Wendy. "We've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow," he said, sat down and took off his shoes. He left his clothes on, crawled under the mound of blankets, moved around some, straightening them as best he could, finally lay still. "I'll see you in the morning, Wendy."

"Good night, Marshall," she said, sat down on the sleeping bag. She slipped her shoes off, unzipped the side of her bed, then climbed into it. She took several minutes trying to get comfortable, then lay her head down. She rolled onto her back, pulled the flap of the sleeping bag up under her chin, stared at the black sky sprinkled with stars overhead. The moon was almost down already, hovered just over the ridge of mountains she'd been watching as they drove.

"Marsh?" she whispered. "Are you asleep yet?"

"Yes. No. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." She was silent for a moment, then she asked him, "Are you afraid at all?"

"Of what?" He turned to her finally, raising up on one elbow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly. Los Angeles, I guess. Being so far from everything. You know."

"Yeah, I know," he answered slowly. "Sure, I'm scared just a little. Not much, really. Mostly, it's not knowing for sure what'll happen next. It'll pass. It always does."

They were both silent.

"Marsh?"

"What?"

"Would you kiss me good night?"

He didn't answer her right away, then asked, "Do you really want me to?"

"I'd like you to. I like you. Everything's happening so fast."

He didn't move, merely looked at her.

Wendy said finally, "You don't have to, Marsh. Not if you don't want to. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything."

"You're not embarrassing me, Wendy. I want to. Kiss you, I mean."

"Just a good night kiss. No one's kissed me good night in ages. Not since I was a little kid."

Marshall crawled from under his blankets and crept over beside her. He touched her vibrantly warm cheek lightly with his fingertips, then leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. He looked down at her.

Wendy said quietly, "It's nice out here, isn't it? It's all so peaceful at night."

"Almost like back home," Marshall nodded. "Of course, we got no desert back home and flat it ain't, but it feels almost the same for some reason. Maybe because of the sky. I don't know."

He kissed her again.

"Is it comfortable over there in your blankets?" Wendy asked.

"It's all right. I've slept on a lot harder ground with a lot less over me."

Wendy looked away from him, said, "There's room enough in this sleeping bag for two, Marsh. We might keep each other a bit warmer."

Marshall hesitated only a moment, then pulled Wendy to him, squeezing her in his arms. Wendy held on to him tightly, was comforted by his strength, by his warmth. He unzipped the sleeping bag, then crawled in on top of her, cradled between her denimed thighs. He kissed her once, then again, probing with his tongue, the heat of his breath exciting her. He slowly pulled away from her mouth with a soft sucking sound.

Wendy said, "I haven't had a bath in two days. I probably stink really bad, don't I?" She wrinkled her pretty nose.