Chapter 3

They enjoyed the rest of the day out in nature, but the lesbian conversation stuck in Heather’s mind. She thought about the bombshell from Cheyenne, saying she could see them fucking under the right circumstances. She didn’t expect to hear that and wasn’t sure if she responded correctly. It appalled her on one level, but excited her on another. She was mixed up about it. It confused her and aroused her at the same time. The arousal is what confused her. It made her feel nauseous. She liked Cheyenne a lot, but not like that.

As they got into the car, Cheyenne sensed Heather was suddenly a lot quieter.

“I hope I didn’t scare you. I was just thinking out loud. You know how I say what I feel--like you do. I think it makes sense that if something were to happen between us, it would’ve by now, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She felt better hearing her say that.

It was getting close to dusk as they drove back taking a different road than the one that got them there. Cheyenne was about to make a U-turn and correct her mistake when the car acted up. It was groaning and chugging along, losing power. Cheyenne pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. They got out, lifted up the hood, and looked at the engine. Neither of them knew a thing about car engines. The car was dead in the middle of nowhere. The recreational site was ten miles back. They were stranded with no cell signal and no traffic to wave down.

“Now what?” Heather asked her, deferring to her like she was her mom. She hoped to hear some confident reply, but got, instead, “I don’t know Heather! We’re fucked!”

It was getting cold and dark.

“We might have to sleep in the car,” Cheyenne said. At that moment headlights appeared down the road. “Look, a car! We have to get them to stop and help us!” she said.

It was a black, passenger van. The girls wildly waved to flag it down. It slowed and stopped beside them. With the window rolled down on the passenger side, the male driver shouted.

“You girls need some help?”

They both nodded. He pulled the van over in front of their car and got out. The man was scruffy looking, lean, and 5’ 6”. (Cheyenne was 5’ 9”, and Heather, 5’ 8”.) He was good looking with piercing blue eyes, in his thirties with the scraggly, facial hair. His crooked, yellow teeth showed when he smiled, and an amateur looking serpent tattoo emerged from his gray t-shirt, up and around his neck. He seemed friendly enough. In a place that remote you wanted someone like him to be friendly.

He tinkered under the hood and said, “This is above my pay grade. I knows a mechanic ‘bout twenty-five miles away, but he won’t open until mornin’ comes.”

He offered his place to stay for the night, about twenty minutes from there. He said he had a spare room. “You two don’t seem like serial killers! And I know I’m not,” he said, laughing with some abandon. His laugh lightened the mood. His homespun way of talking was calming.

They looked at each other. What choice did they really have? They could sleep in the car but had only the picnic blanket, and still no cell signal. Here was someone who could take them to the mechanic.

He added, “If you’re okay with sharing a bed, then, this can work out for the night. We got some food, and if you wanted to, you could shower and all that. I got new fluffy towels that I just bought and all. After hikin’ in them woods you might want to wash off the little bugs and dirt that gets on ya. Up to you.”

Both girls looked at each other again. (Bugs? They were thinking--yes--a hot shower would be nice.) He was a married man, judging from his wedding ring. Hopefully, his wife would be okay with him bringing home two girls.

“I’m Judd,” he said extending his hand to Cheyenne but looking directly at her tits.

“I’m Cheyenne and that’s Heather,” she said, extending her hand to him. He shook it firmly and smiled. When he reached for Heather’s hand, she didn’t instantly respond--until seeing Cheyenne’s disapproving look. She shook his hand. It felt rough and thick.

Cheyenne claimed the passenger seat, of course. There was no seating in the back of the van. Heather sat on a pile of paint-blotched tarps. Judd was a house painter. There were plastic buckets of flat, white paint, some brushes soaking in jars of clear liquid, and two aluminum ladders. Except for the rear double doors, the back of the van had no windows.

Heather always felt like an outsider with her group of friends. She was the one that felt the most insecure and second class, as most of her friends came from well-off families. And all had cars and boyfriends. You could say that she was never the star of her own movie. Always the “best friend” or side character. That was the dynamic with Cheyenne, too. So, it was no surprise Cheyenne sat up front, while Heather reclined on dirty tarps in back.

Cheyenne was a big flirt. Her drool-worthy breasts got her a lot attention from the start. When she was a teen, she developed quickly, and everything seemed to go her way with men. A guy like Judd was in the age range she preferred. She told Heather in confidence, during one of their night talks in the dark, she had flings with married men. One was with her high school, volleyball coach when she was seventeen. And another was last semester with her psychology professor at the college. Being a woman’s college, the male instructors got a lot of flirting and pussy. That tryst bumped up her grades, of course. In the meantime, Heather was always in the library, doing homework.

Cheyenne learned in middle school that it was a good strategy to sit in the front row in class and wearing short skirts that hiked up. The male teachers enjoyed a nice view of her legs parted just wide enough to show them what panties she had on that day--or if she was wearing any panties at all! Sometimes, she wore none, to keep the teachers addicted to looking between her thighs!

She had the teachers hooked, whether they were single, married or old. As a teen, she learned how to use her “pussy power” to great advantage. It was a game to her, catching her teacher glancing between her legs, trying not to be obvious about it. It aroused her, too. Her teachers would often see a big wet spot on her panties. She’d masturbate in the school bathroom when she got too aroused. And more than once, her beaver shots gave her teacher an erection. There were times when her teacher had to stay sitting at his desk because he couldn’t hide his hard on from the class--especially if she exposed her bald, pink pussy. She would say to Heather, “A girl’s gotta use all her assets to get what or who she wants.”

Heather wasn’t that kind of girl to use her assets. She knew she had the “pussy power” that all girls are born with--but she was too afraid to do what Cheyenne did. Her friend had balls!

It was getting very dark by the time they pulled up to Judd’s house. It was the only house for miles and quite run down. There were a few lights on. Out from the darkness, a black Lab ran up to the car, wagging its tail, happy to see Judd... “Hey, Manson!” Judd said.

“Manson?” Cheyenne asked. “Like Charlie Manson?”

“Uh, nah, it was my brother’s name. He was killed in Iraq.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. You ain’t the first one to think that. I get it, the Manson family, The White Album and Sharon Tate and all.”

“White Album?”

“Yeah, the Beatles album where he said they gave him messages to kill.”

“I never heard that.”

They got out of the van. Heather’s back hurt from sitting awkwardly on the tarps. Once she stood on the ground, she stretched. They petted Manson and headed to the house. It was very dark on that moonless night. The silhouettes of dismantled cars filled the yard.

Once inside, a large man appeared. He just stood there, blank-faced, staring at them, and then fixated on Cheyenne’s tits. He was a “Hulk” of a guy. He was in his forties, well over six feet tall, low-browed, bald headed and built like a professional wrestler. He had a ragged, salt n’ pepper beard and a couple warts high up on his cheek. There were multiple skull and bones tattoos on his large forearms. Like Judd’s, they seemed like handmade tats, the kind inmates made in prison. Everything about him said “prison”. The girls had expected to see Judd’s wife not this dude. Was there a wife?

Judd kept up his friendly demeanor to quell the girl’s trepidation. He quickly explained the situation to the man in front of them. The girls felt more comfortable with Judd than this guy.

“This is Rex, my roommate. Here’s Cheyenne and Heather. They’re gonna stay the night in the guest room-- and in the morning I’ll take them to Andy’s Repair.”

Rex broke from his breast gaze and smiled. “Nice to meet yas. We don’t get much company out here, anymore. You are the hottest girls I ever seen.”

“Thank you, guys, for letting us stay here.” Cheyenne said, diplomatically. She “read” Rex as a dumb, low IQ sort of shitkicker. She figured Judd was maybe a few degrees smarter. Time for her to be smart and use her pussy power, if necessary, to control the situation. She hoped Heather would let her work her magic.

Judd showed them to their room at the end of a long, shadowy hall. It was a modest, two-bedroom house. They passed another bedroom. There was a large king-sized bed inside. Heather peeked in as she walked by and wondered if they slept together. Or did one of them sleep in the guest room? They might be a couple. She hoped they were gay. She would feel a lot safer.

The guest room was small and looked like no one had used it in a long time. It could use a dusting. There was a double bed and a nightstand on either side, near the headboard. It was big enough to accommodate the girls. Heather noticed there was a lock on the inside of the door. That made her feel better. There was one odd thing she noticed: the four bedposts had scarfs tied to them at mattress level. They were restraints! Might’ve been some BDSM going on there in the past. She pointed it out to Cheyenne. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and joked, “Don’t worry, I won’t tie you up, sweety!”

Judd overheard them and responded, “Oh, that was there before, um, when a couple rented the room out. They were a little kinky. That was two years ago, wasn’t it, Rex?”

Rex smiled and just nodded with a smirk like he could’ve said more.

“I can take them off there if you want.”

“No, it’s alright. It doesn’t bother us,” Cheyenne said. Heather was thinking “But it bothers me”. She grinned and went along with the flow.

The girls partied with the guys in the living room. Things loosened up with the help of some weed and brews. They had an old turntable from the ‘80’s and a lot of vinyl record albums. Deep Purple’s “Machine Head” was playing. “Highway Star” blasted through the big speakers. Rex was nicer than initially, although his bloodshot eyes were locked on Cheyenne’s cleavage. Heather was high and quietly observing everything. Cheyenne and Judd were talkative. Cheyenne felt she handled herself well with these two characters.

“Manson really likes you,” Rex said to Heather, as she was rubbing his head. “Do you like him?”

“Sure, yeah. You’re a good boy, aren’t you!” she said to Manson, speaking with an animated cadence. His tail wagged hard which made a repetitive thud on the dirty, hardwood floor.

Judd spoke up. “So, you two live together or somethin’?”

“Yeah, in the dorms. We’re roommates,” Cheyenne said.

“So, college girls,” he remarked with some insincere enthusiasm. “I like smart girls. Are you “too” smart?”

“Cheyenne is,” Heather boasted, trying to boost her friend and include herself in the conversation.

“No, actually, Heather’s the smart one.”

Judd said with some irritation, “No, I mean are you “TOO SMART”? Like in “T-O-O”. “TOO” smart.”

“Not sure what you mean,” Cheyenne shot back sarcastically.

“I think you both think--you’re just TOO SMART for us. Right? We’re just some dumb fuck, rednecks to you, right?”

Suddenly his demeanor did a 180. The room got quiet. Manson kept his tail wagging in contrast to the angry tone Judd took on. Rex laughed for the first time, noticing the girls were getting nervous. It was then that Heather saw his huge erection bulging in his pants. Judd, too, had a hard on!

Cheyenne noticed, too. “We’re all different. You’re what you are, and we’re what we are. No one’s smarter or better than anyone here. Right Heather?”