Gas station hammering

I had been driving for a full hour before I saw the ram shackled huddle of buildings appear like a mirage at the road side. Though I’d travelled this desert road from Reno so many times it still came as a surprise when Froggie Bills gas station appeared like it had been dropped from the heavens. I slowed my car eager to stretch my legs and no doubt share a few words with the eccentric owner.

As I turned in 3 young men eyed me nervously as they got back into their supped up shit box. Then with the customary wheel spinning of youth they tore off as if hoping I’d race.

As the wheel cloud cleared from my windscreen I got out. Froggie Bill as normal was there to greet; as he was with all his customers.

“Hi Bill,” I said with a tired smile,” more hot shot kids,” I added.

“Little punks,” he said with an old Gaelic giggle,” but they got more than they hoped for today.”

I ignored his words. Nothing much made sense when it came to Bill. He’d been out here so long the sun had got to him. I’d known the dour old French man to brandish a shotgun to kids like that before today. I guess they’d got him on a good day.

“Fill her up, while I take a piss.” I said in a matter of fact way. He giggled again something in my use of words amusing him.

“Fucking French nut.” Was my response from under my breath.

As I came out of the john it was then I noticed the other car. A little sporty corvette parked along side the old ramshackle building. I gave it a suspicious once over. Out of state plates with settled dust on the bonnet; it looked like it has been here a few hours; maybe a bit more.

“Bill”, I said walking back to the old hairy assed man. “Got a new car?”

Bill just laughed again giving me a wink. “I’m just holding it for someone,” he giggled.

I opened my car door to get back in. Today he was crazier than normal and I had another 200 miles to go before I was home. Best just leave him. As I sat in and turned on the ignition his next words caught me by surprise.

“Do you want to see who I’m holding it for?”

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. Something wasn’t right.

“Sure, I said.” Keeping him at ease.

He nodded a knowing smile then beckoned me to follow. The wind was getting up now and desert sand billowed around my waist as he gestured with his finger drawing me to the back of the gas station.

“She just won’t stop bitching,” He grumbled. “All high and mighty; telling me what to do. I don’t take orders from women do you hear”

I felt uncomfortable.

“She’s beauty though.”

“Bill,” I said thinking what kind of name was that for a French man? “What have you done?”

He didn’t reply to my question.

The man just smiled again and opened a rickety bar type door and we both stepped through into the hot dusty outhouse. The planks on the walls had splinters which allowed shafts of light in and I stood there dumbfounded.

In the shack facing away from me was a woman. She was brunette about 5’8 though that had to be a guess. She was naked apart from high stiletto heels, legs wide apart as she bent over. She was standing; she had no choice as along with her arms tied behind her back and her shoulder down, she also had her neck clamped through some sort of wooden stock.

As I entered she sensed a new visitor and began to plead for help. She was blindfolded but her bright red lips were not gagged, her beautiful face framed by a full salon brunette mane.

In the darkness her sweaty body glistened. Her ass glowed, her long, fabulously long legs in a firm and erect posture; the heels and bent over waist forcing them so.