Hidden Treasures

Hitchhiker

She saw him from afar, looming in front of her first as a small speck, then larger and larger. Black boots, blue jeans, a plaid shirt and his brown hair in the wind of the desert landscape. Next to him was an old leather suitcase, his cowboy hat laid down on it like a forgotten accessory. She slowed down, pulled over slowly, stopped. Defying the risk and all the familiar warnings, she pulled up beside him, peered through the open passenger window of her Mustang. He leaned down, peering into the car with narrowed eyes, showing a row of white teeth under a black mustache. For a moment, she thought of Burt Reynolds and smirked.

"Hey cowboy, where you headed?"

"Just out of the desert and into the next town, ma'am." His fingers stroking through tousled hair, he grinned broadly. She made a head movement toward the back seat.

"In you go, just throw the bag in the back."

"You sure? I mean..."

"The chances of me hurting you are slim, right?" she laughed harshly as he shrugged and nodded.

"I think I can risk it. And if," he fell groaning into the seat, "do it gently! Pedro," he said as she stepped on the gas, spinning the tires. "Nice ride, by the way."

"Not a horse to stand on, but it'll do for my purposes."

She gave her name, looked at the speedometer, then at him. "How the hell do you get to the Badlands? Don't tell me on foot now?"

"Well, the last trucker was a bit of an odd fellow, and after he got pushy in a way I didn't like, I thought I'd better pin my hopes on another transportation option. I was not disappointed!" He eyed her for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

"Lucky day, I don't usually drive this way. But I thought I'd try quiet country roads instead of annoying construction sites. It's a better place for me to take this baby out, too." She stroked the dashboard lovingly.

"Well, and originally I was on my way to a friends gig, my flight was delayed, the bus didn't show up at all, and I didn't want to miss the spectacle." He shrugged.

"Sounds like a classic serial killer!" she laughed, chuckling. "Plus that Burt Reynolds mustache, it's almost too obvious!"

"Hey! I guess I'm better than Burt Reynolds, he's already dusty."

She looked down at the dusty jeans and grinned. "You guys have something in common there! But ok, I agree, you are better looking."

"Compliments aren't your strong suit, are they?" he fell into her laughter.

"Music? Then I don't have to try to pull everything out of your nose!", she pointed to the music system.

"Let's see what this thing can do!" followed by an "Uhhh, Fleetwood Mac?" he looked at her in amazement, his face beginning to glow.

"Listen to the wind blows...", she looked at him as she turned the song louder and at the same time they nodded to the beat and started singing loudly.

She fancied him, anything else would have been a lie, she liked the way the broad, unusual nose tightened when he grinned, the way the brown eyes surrounded by deep laugh lines eyed her, and the way he smelled, earthy, tart, masculine, a hint of pheromones resonating in his sweat, settling in her nose. She couldn't deny that she liked this cowboy and more than once fantasized for a moment about how he must feel, taste, and how well hung he might be. Pedro saw her look, held it, raised an eyebrow, half-opened his mouth. Her eyes fell on the tongue resting against the inside of his upper lip, like a snake, lurking, ready to take its prey. She looked at the dusty road, put the car in gear too hastily, heard the creaking sound before she accelerated. This man irritated her in a way she was not used to in all her independence. Everything he radiated made her weak inside, aroused her curiosity and worse than that, her lust for him. Certainly she had never been a child of sadness, she was unattached, she liked to take what she wanted, shame in this regard was foreign to her but with him she was almost insecure and helpless.