Reported like the true gentleman you are.
But sooooo circumspect.
We want dirty details. Make them up if you have to.
HEck, I'll help you-
Sherry, clad in tight jeans and a twenty-five pound parka that still couldn't hide her shapely form, slid gracefully from her car. I should have guessed as much from her posts. She was all woman.
"You MUST be Ish," she said in a throaty voice.
I flexed my manly muscles and handed her the roses I had ordered flown in for the occasion. "Yes," I said suavely, "but you can call me Troy."
When we entered the truckstop, all heads turned and a murmur arose. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn my tuxedo.
We sat and ordered. I told her to spare no expense and she smiled gratefully and ordered the Big Rig Special, extra-sized. What a woman.
We had coffee and chatted and had coffee and chatted and had coffee and took a five minute trip to the bathroom.
I knew our time together was coming to a close. As we rose to leave, every trucker in the room turned to stare at her lithe body, amazed. Word had spread about her appetite.
In the lot, we embraced. I knew we would never forget our time together. From now on, everytime I see a truckstop I will think of the beautiful Sherry and remember the way her long curling black hair fell into her plate and the sensuous way she wiped the grease off with her napkin.
What a woman. |
