Hitching a Ride: A Group of Strangers

EXTRACT:

I found myself in a van with a bunch of men who I’d never met before. What was the worst that could happen? Well, we hadn’t gone far when the van came to a juddering halt.

We’d traveled far enough to be out of town and stopped away from any road sign or landmark.

“Where are we, and why are we on a dirt track?” I asked when we all piled out of the van.

“I was avoiding the traffic. It’s back-to-back on the main road,” the driver explained. His hands were fiddling with his shirt buttons.

“What’s going on?” I turned to ask John Kane, who undid his belt buckle and whipped his belt out of the loops.

“You said you’d do anything so…here goes nothing!” he said with a wink at me as he tossed it at one of the guys standing beside him, who caught the belt as if he’d been waiting for this moment for years.

All of the men seemed to be in the process of undressing, and the full implications dawned on me. This wasn’t just helping a stranded woman; these guys were stripping to help her. My heart thumped against my rib cage, and my palms began to sweat, but I forced my lips into an unconcerned smile as I watched them begin to unbutton their shirts. They even loosened ties!

I’d been such a naive fool and blinkered because I’d desperately focused on my issues. Of course, the men had an agenda, and I had barely a moment to decide how to handle the situation.

John’s eyes flicked between my face and my chest, watching the movement of my blouse.

So far, everything had been friendly, and there’d been no suggestion they intended to coerce me into anything I didn’t want to do. If they wanted me to pay my way, I had money. I wasn’t looking for a free ride, but they had offered, and it hadn’t occurred to me that they had an alternative form of payment in mind.

Even the fact that they were semi-undressed didn’t mean they were going to force me into anything.

I shrugged as if it was no big deal.

John was right; I did say I’d do anything. And I’d meant it. Why should I change that now?

If I didn’t object or refuse to do what they thought I offered, then we could get on with it and be on our way again. And they’d be morally obligated to go through with their side of the bargain.

They began to reveal tattooed pecs, pierced nipples, and rippling six-packs: every man who took his shirt off revealed a body sculpted by exercise and nutrition. Their skin glistened in the winter air; muscular men who looked like men you wouldn’t cross the road for—until you saw them strip down.

Seriously — what objection could I have?

This situation with a bunch of fit guys in a rock band had to be right up there as one of my favorite fantasies.