Page 63 of Hauling Ashe

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CALIFORNIA – DAY 6

Playlist: “Arizona” – Josh Kerr

[Tucker]

It’s Wednesday and we are three hours away from California.

Julia was understanding when I told her on Monday I wasn’t going to make it, but I’d be at the vineyard on Friday if I had to hitchhike my way there. I hadn’t asked Mae to take me to Napa. The deal was as far as Los Angeles. She continues to avoid discussing her plans after she drops me off, and I’m beginning to grow anxious about what is next for her.

Would she want to see me again?

I want to see her. I don’t want us to part ways like this trip never happened. But I’m not convinced we can continue what we have during this trip once we return to our respective homes. Our lives are very different. She is a small-town girl; I’m a city man. We each own a business and have obligations. And the one thing I swore I’d never do again was give up my life for a woman.

Still, my current journey is following Mae’s path and it leads us on a brief jaunt off I-40 to return to Route 66 near Seligman through Peach Springs to Kingman, where gift shops and restaurants call to travelers. The buildings are worn from the desert heat and sun. After a stop for breakfast and a picture before a famous east-west chart in Kingman, we continue onward.

The drive toward Oatman, another ghost town on the edge of two states, is narrow and curvy and rising in elevation. Once we arrive in the old mining town, Mae squeals with delight.

“They really do have wild burros wandering the street.” She explained how once the miners exited the area, they turned their burros loose to go rogue. “Oh, I wish I could take one home,” she coos.

I just shake my head. She’s adorable.

From Oatman to Needles, California, it’s a thirty-minute drive and while I can say I made it to California by Wednesday, I’m nowhere near my final destination. Our drive through the Mojave Desert is filled with gorgeous landscape once again and my driving companion marvels at the beauty of our country. Mae is so in awe of everything she sees.

“For a woman who loves plants, you seem to love the rocks and dirt just as much,” I joke.

“Give me rocks and fields, or something like that Jane Austen once said, and I’ll be content.” Mae weakly smiles to herself as she stares out the window.

I’ve held her hand as much as I could until the switchbacks along the road needed my attention when we exited Arizona. With us officially in California, Mae grows quieter. We continue to pass rundown buildings and former hotels, but she isn’t asking to stop for photos. Her head stays turned to the side, watching the landscape go by out her window, but I’m wondering what is on her mind.

Absentmindedly, I stroke my fingertip up and down her inner thigh. She’s wearing a short dress today made of light material and giving off a 1960s prairie vibe. She had another pair of sandals in her bag, but I’m still committed to replacing the shoe she lost. I chuckle to myself with thoughts of last night. I really wanted to fuck her on the hood, underneath the stars, but we made up for the loss when we returned to the lodge. The endorphin rush of being with Mae isn’t subsiding. It’s growing every second we’re together.

As we drive down a particularly empty stretch of road, my fingers wander up her thigh, forcing her dress to lift and Mae eventually glances down at what I’m doing on her leg. Her head pops up and she looks at me, but I only catch her out the corner of my eye. My fingers slip higher, and Mae spreads her legs.

Sweet Jesus. I can feel the heat coming from her and my fingers brush over the wet strip of her underwear.

“Mae,” I groan, frustrated with myself that she’s ready for me. I can’t get a good angle at her with my hand while I’m driving, but I try, cupping her and rubbing at the sensitive spot covered in cotton. Eventually, Mae pushes my hand away from her and slips her own between her legs.

“What are you doing?” I stammer, fighting to keep my eyes forward. “Are you trying to cause an accident?”

I can’t watch the road and watch her, but somehow, I think that’s what she wants. She wants to taunt me from the seat beside me.

“Don’t tease me,” I groan, choking when Mae’s fingers slip between her thighs and her head tilts back. With the heat index outside this car, within minutes of pulling over and shutting off the engine we’d be drenched in sweat. The idea of stopping to fuck her in the backseat is too dangerous to risk. Not to mention, the backseat is too small.

“Mae?” I groan, peering to the side again, watching her fingers move over her center as her dress rises up to her hips. I don’t know what she’s thinking but I don’t want her to stop. This scene will be one more in my memory box of this trip and Mae.

Her smile. Her touch. Her scent.

As Mae’s fingers rub faster and her legs spread wider, my cock hardens, and I loosen my shorts by popping the button.

“I want to taste you, Mae. I want my tongue on that sweet pussy.”

Her back arches and she groans, fingers slipping inside her.

“That’s it. Let me hear you have an orgasm. Give me another real one, sunshine.”

Her mouth curves, knowing what I reference.