Chapter 4

Carla decided it was time for her to get a change of scenery from the Miami Beach area after a cop car pulled up to her front door on two nights running.

It seemed that the action was getting a little too hot for comfort. In fact, hotter than she desired if she wanted to stay out of Juvenile Hall or possibly the work farm down near Homestead where the girls all picked tomatoes in the harsh rays of the Florida sun.

The cops were getting a lot rougher after losing a couple of deputies to the cartel gangs that had no scruples or bounds of common decency.

Even her contacts at the expensive hotels were being cautious about illegal activities and she knew they didn’t want her type walking into their lobby either night or day.

She was at a crossroads literally as well as figuratively trying to decide to head north up the crowded 95 corridor or south down to the restrictive Florida Keys where the cops were all a bit nutty and tended to treat girls like her badly whilst in custody for any slight misstep.

She decided that her best bet was to head straight west across the peninsula over to the Gulf of Mexico side where the residents were a little more geriatric and the sea waves were a lot more subdued.

Along the way she stopped for gas at an isolated truck stop with lots of parked trucks and a shit-pot of gas points busy with the non-stop traffic. She went to the part where the cars and small pick-ups gassed up and stayed away from the truck station where she saw a number of sweet young things selling their ass for money to the bored drivers. She knew that was a losing proposition because the drivers were notoriously frugal, and they sometimes roughed the young girls up without any reason.

She got her gas, went to the washroom, and did her thing thinking that the flow of customers was like a carnival up in Orlando where the big amusement parks herded tourists like sheep through all the viewing pleasures with little regard for their comfort or safety as fellow human beings and not cash cows to be milked for maximum profit and forgotten forever.

The disillusioned girl saw a young girl sitting on the ledge of the gas pump where her car was still parked unwrapping a cast-off partially eaten hot dog from a previous customer with no time left for consumption.

“Hey, honey, don’t eat that thing. You don’t know what germs are on it.”

She offered her the extra bag of chips she had under her arm and the girl smiled up at her showing her the big black shiner in her right eye.

“Thanks, lady, I just got ripped off by one of those ugly truckers. I gave him a decent blow job and his reward was this shiner when he kicked me out of his cab.”

Carla knew the girl was being honest with her because she considered her to be a fellow traveler looking for the angles just like her. In a way, she was right because she was getting ripped off back in Miami in a similar manner only didn’t get any black eye because she knew when it was time to hit the road.

“Well, honey, this spot is a long way from paradise if you catch my drift. Those truckers are a closed breed, and you won’t be getting much out of them unless you do special tricks.”

She held out her hand and told her, “My name is Carla, and I just blew off Miami because the cops are getting a little brittle because of the whole “Defund the Police” thing going around everywhere.”

The girl stood up and Carla was impressed at her height. She had to be close to six foot tall with long slender legs covered with the usual ripped blue jeans that all the loose girls like to wear like a badge of courage in the face of the cruel nature of the realities of the world.

“How did you know my name is Honey? Have we met before?”

Carla looked her in the eye and told her, “I call all females “Honey”. It is just a habit with me because I am terrible with names.”

The girl laughed and when I asked her if she needed a lift, she shook her hear in the affirmative and climbed into the passenger side showing me a lot of her long lovely legs and glorious behind.

I was not much of one to hit on strange females, so I minded my manners, and we reached the Tamiami Trail in daylight. There was a cousin I had up in the Naples area, but I figured it would not be a good idea to show up there with a strange young girl in tow. I could tell the kid was exhausted because her eyelids were drooping low. For want of any plan or purpose, I pulled into a roadside motel with a “Vacancy” sign and signed us up for a two bed room.

I let the girl an extra set of pajamas.

Hard to believe that in my line of work I was a pajama girl. It was a habit from growing up with a bunch of randy brothers all looking to score after a fruitless date with some bimbo that wasn’t giving out anything for free.

It did a lot to eliminate the sexiness from my horizontal position and it was a hard habit to break.

Once I had those PJs on, I knew I was off the clock, and I could throw up my ankles and relax at long last.

Honey got some ice for her eye from the ice machine outside our door. I knew the thing was convenient but the thought of listening to the other residents making the loud noise all through the night put a damper on the convenience.

I watched the slender Honey shuck all her clothes and when the panties came off, I saw her full black bush. She certainly didn’t believe in trimming that monster and that’s a fact.

Her perfect heart-shaped butt quivered as she walked into the shower, and I decided to join her on the spur of the moment as a chance to get better acquainted with her the old fashioned way.

I was scrubbing her back and points south soon after and she was giving me directions like a GPS voice telling which way to go.

Somehow, my fingers managed to worm their way into her feminine folds, and she was babbling sweet nothings telling me that she would be a “good girl” for me anyway I wanted.