Hitchhiking Lesbian Cheerleader Slut
by
Kim Mitchell
Hard Case Dyke Books
Brooklyn, NY
2012
Smashwords Edition
2012
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.Copyright © 2012 by Hard Case Dyke Books
This story originally appeared under the title “Cheerleader in a Motel Room” in the collection, Submissive Games for Tender Trollops (Ophelia Press, 2009) by the author’s other pen name, Valerie Grey. This version has been significantly revised.
1.
She looked safe: the pretty young thing standing along the side the highway, thumb out.
So
I stopped my car.
“How far you going?” I yelled over the
traffic.
“San Jose,” she yelled back.
“Get in, throw
your bag in the back seat if you can find the room,” I told her.
My back seat was full of clothes, a weakness I developed over
the years. My ex-husband used to call me a shopping addict.
The
young girl crawled into the passenger side and I couldn’t help but
notice how she was dressed, clothes and style being a passion of
mine. Extremely oversized sweatshirt and baggy jeans, as if to
attempt camouflaging a perfectly ripe nineteen-year-old body.
I
pulled back on the highway and sped up to cruising speed. “Do you
know how dangerous it is for a young girl like you to be hitch hiking
in today’s world?” I said.
“Yeah,” she said. “But
sometimes choices are like, you know, limited. I’ve been
lucky so far though. And I don’t hitch at night.”
“Do you
know the way to San Jose,” I sang to change the subject. “Do you
have family there?”
“Nah,” she said. “Going there to look
for a job.”
“My name is Alyson Elizabeth Oliver,” I told
her. “Everybody calls me ‘A.E’. I’m glad I could help you out
with a ride. I could use the company. Gets lonely driving across
country by one’s self.”
“My name is Kay,” she responded.
“Kay Addams. Nice meeting you too.”
“Where are you from?”
I asked.
“A little town near Port Jervis, New York. Small
town. Called Port Sands. You know, one of those boring little towns
where everybody knows everybody else’s business.”
I knew it
was none of my business why she was alone on the road, especially
such a young and pretty girl. I asked anyway.
“A week after I
graduated high school I was caught in bed with my Social Studies
teacher,” she said as if it was something she did all the time.
“When my dad found out he cut me off, said he wouldn’t pay for my
college. Everybody in town heard about it. I tried getting a job so I
could move out of my parents’ house but nobody would hire me. So
here I am. On my way to San Jose to look for a job and hopefully,
eventually get in college.”
“Your dad was really tough on
you,” I said, and: “I’m sorry for you he wasn’t more
understanding.”
“Yeah, he’s not like, you know, the
coolest person in the world. But he’s honest. He believed his
punishment was right as long as I still lived around town where he
could keep an eye on me. When he found out I was leaving he had my
sister bring me one of his credit cards for emergencies.”
“Sounds
pretty cool,” I said, trying to speak like her. “Also sounds like
he loves his daughter still. You know.”
“Maybe,” Kay said,
closing her eyes. “But I’ve always been a pain in the ass to him.
Actually, the real reason I left, well, the teacher was arrested
because I was seventeen at the time we got caught. The police wanted
me to testify against her and like I wasn’t going to do that. So I
split.”
“Her,” I said, liking the sound of that
word. “The teacher was a woman?”
“Didn’t I mention that
before? I thought I did, maybe I didn’t. Why, does that shock you?’
“I’m a Social Studies teacher!” I said. “Don’t you
think that’s a little ironic, me, a female Social Studies teacher
picking you up hitch hiking and you telling a story like that.”
“It’s not a ‘story,’ it’s the truth,” she
said defiantly. “I’m not lying.”
“No, no, I didn’t
mean to insinuate you were. I just meant what are the chances of
this happening. It’s really weird.”
“So what about you,”
she said. “Driving down the highway in a nice new car, nice
clothes. You must have it made.”
Not quite, I wanted to say.
“I just divorced my husband and decided to travel. Quit my teaching
job and here I am. I’m going to San Francisco to visit my sister.
Haven’t seen her for about five years. It’s going to be nice to
see her and her kids. She has a two year old daughter I’ve never
seen, at least not in person.”
What I didn’t tell Kay was
what an asshole my husband turned out to be. After ten years of
marriage he went nuts. Our normal sex life, dull as it was, didn’t
need to suddenly become perverted to spice it up. Oh, but he thought
it did. Suddenly I wasn’t enough for him. When he found a woman who
would do the things he liked he filed for divorce. And I didn’t
fight for anything we had: our joint property, his successful
business, all I wanted was cash., and I got it. Enough that I don’t
have to work for a few years. But I’m only thirty-five-years-old. I
can’t imagine not going back to my first love, teaching. But for
now I was just going to enjoy myself for awhile.
“You sure you
need company?” Kay asked.
That jolted me out of my deep
thought.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking about something.”
“Oh.”
“I’m
glad to have your company. I’ve already driven a thousand miles by
myself.”
“Listen, If your going to San Francisco, you’ll
be going right through, or by, Morrow Bay, won’t you? You think I
can get a ride all the way with you?”
“Sure, why not. I have
to tell you—I’m in no hurry. I have reservations at a motel for
tonight. Will that be a problem?”
“I have some money,” she
said. “I can like get a room there too.”
“There may not be any left, reservations and all.”
“Let’s see when we
get there.”
“Oh, there’s a restaurant up ahead,” I said,
a little too esxcited. “Are you hungry? Because I’m
starved.”
“Cool,” she said.
2.
We walked towards the restaurant from the parking lot. Kay was about three steps ahead of me. I don’t know if it was intuition or ten years of high school teaching but as I watched her walk I made an observation.
“You were a cheerleader
in high school, weren’t you?”
Kay slowed, turned, brushing up
against my arm—intentional or accidental, the nipple touching my
arm un-nerved me.
“Thought you’d never notice,” she cooed
softly.
“Just a guess. Come on, let’s eat.”
“I love to eat,” she said. I wondered what she really meant.
We both had grilled
cheese sandwiches and fries, with milk shakes. We giggled because we
were like a couple of tweens out having a blast.
After lunch we
were back on the road, enjoying the western scenery and pleasant
conversation.
I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to someone
of her age—an age I was teaching three months ago.
Then Kay
said, “You seemed a little disturbed this morning when you heard
the person I was having sex with was a woman. Have you had—you
know, experiences with women?”
“Good grief, no,” I
replied. “I was a happily married woman for ten years. I never even
looked at another man, let alone a woman. Why would you ask me
that?”
“Dunno,” she said. “I just thought…well…”
“And
by he way,” I added. “I wasn’t ‘disturbed.’ Surprised
maybe, but not disturbed. What you did, or do, is your
business as a free woman.”
“Well let me tell you,” she
stated emphatically. “While I was a high school cheerleader for
three years I can tell you there were as many women as men trying to
look up my skirt every game. And that’s the truth.”
“You’ve
got to be kidding,” I said. “I’ve been too a lot of high
school games myself. I never noticed any women, you know, doing what
you said. But you’re right about the men. I expected it from the
boys, but not their fathers. Sometimes it was just pathetic.
But that’s the way some men are. Golly, even my ex-husband couldn’t
keep his eyes off of the tarts. Dirty old man, he was.”
“You
never looked at the cheerleaders and thought about them sexually?”
she asked. “Be truthful now.”
“No, I never did. I did
admire their hard work. I know being a cheerleader isn’t all fun
and games. I think sometimes I was disturbed by the way they acted so
innocent. I’ve seen some of them pretty flirtatious around adult
males.”
“How much of an act can innocence be at sixteen,
seventeen?” she said. “Really, how much could they know?”
“You’re right, Kay. That probably wasn’t fair of me.
That’s a very insightful thing for you to say.”
“If you
didn’t think of them in a sexual way you were one of few who
didn’t,” she said. “You know, you’re also the type of woman
that other women are drawn too.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re beautiful, have great body. But the one
characteristic you have is the look of vulnerability. That’s what
women look for in other women. And cheerleaders usually have that
look because they’re young. That’s just the way it is.”
I
laughed nervously. “Was there a compliment in there somewhere?”
“Yes,” Kay said, and smiled.
The conversation ended on
the subject, because I didn’t want to concede that she was partly
right. Everyone thinks of cheerleaders as sexual objects. I never did
specifically, especially not like I am right now. Maybe she was
right; it was the innocence, the vulnerability, the revealing
uniforms, the panty shots they give the crowd.
3.
That evening, about 8:30,
we approached the town where I had a motel reservation. I took the
next off ramp exit and easily found the motel near the highway. I
pulled into the parking lot and, for the first time, noticed how
tired I was. I was glad to be here.
We climbed out of the car
and I heard Kay groan. “Look at the damn sign,” she said. There
it was, boldly flashing in green neon: “NO VACANCY.”
“Maybe
you could drive me down the road to another motel,” Kay said. “It
doesn’t have to be real nice. It’s only for one night.”
“Let’s go in here first,” I said. “Just to be sure.”
The desk clerk confirmed the motel was fully booked. They did
have my reservation and my room was ready for me.
“You know,”
the desk clerk, “both of you could stay in one room and I won’t
charge you for double occupancy. It also has a king size bed. I think
you would be comfortable.”
There was an awkward moment of
silence. Kay knew, I’m sure, how uncomfortable I felt at this
moment, primarily because of her confession.
“Alyson, this
isn’t necessary,” she said. “Just take me down the road. I’ll
find something.”
“No, it’s no problem,” I said. “The
man’s right—we would probably be comfortable for one night. We’ll
get a good nights sleep and be on our way first thing in the
morning.”
“You sure?” she whispered. “I just don’t
want you to feel like you have to do this. I don’t want you to feel
you’re being forced into an uncomfortable position. After all,”
and she gggled, “I am a cheerleader.”
I choked back a
laugh. The motel clerk looked at us strangely.
“We’ll take
the room,” I said t the clerk.
The room was beautiful; it was
a King size bed and it was huge. We could sleep in this bed and not
even seem to be in the same proximity of each other.
While
preparing for bed Kay stripped down too a cut-off t-shirt and
panties. She seemed to be putting her firm, full round tits and tight
little butt on display, or maybe that was my imagination. It annoyed
me a little that she would be so brazen, especially after our
conversations.
My face was flush red, and despite everything, I
actually appreciated the fact she thought of me sexually. This was
just her way off flirting, and like most people, I liked the feeling
of being wanted and desired. I also caught myself leering at her,
just like a man would do, and I quickly looked away before she
noticed.