The ride into town

The tow truck rumbles down the long dirt driveway and pulls onto the main road. You glance back one last time. The old farmer is still waving. Loretta stands beside him, one hand raised, the other resting on her hip. Just before the farm disappears behind a line of trees, you could swear she gives you that same sly wink… and then her hand casually slides up to cup one of her full tits through her blouse, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze.

You shift in the passenger seat, cock twitching at the sight even as the truck carries you farther away.

“Damn shame about the tire,” the tow driver says, making conversation. “But you’re lucky the old man let you crash there. Not many folks around here that hospitable.”

You mutter something noncommittal. Your mind is still back on that farm. On that short green skirt. On what might have happened if you hadn’t been such a fucking coward and just gone after her when you had the chance.

The ride into town is quiet after that. Twenty minutes later the truck pulls into a wide gravel lot in front of a large metal building with a faded sign that reads Miller’s Auto & Tire.

A stocky man in his forties with grease-stained hands and a rag tucked in his back pocket steps out of the open bay door as the tow truck backs your car in.

“That’s the one with the blown rear tire?” he calls out.

“Yeah,” the driver answers. “Guy was staying out at the Henderson place.”

The mechanic — Miller, you assume — gives you a quick once-over and nods. “Alright. Let’s get her up on the lift and see what we’re dealing with. Shouldn’t take too long if I’ve got the tire in stock. If not, I’ll have to order one in.”

You grab your bag from the cab and follow him inside the workshop. The place smells like rubber, oil, and metal. Your car is already being raised on the hydraulic lift. Miller ducks underneath to inspect the damage while you stand there feeling the weight of last night’s failure settle in your gut.

You blew it.

You had a beautiful, barely-legal farm girl under the same roof and you sat in your room like a fucking idiot waiting for her to come to you. Now you’re here, in some dusty mechanic shop in the middle of nowhere, and she’s back on that farm probably laughing about the creepy guy who couldn’t even make a move.

Miller straightens up and wipes his hands on the rag. “Rear tire’s completely shredded. Rim’s a little bent too, but I can fix that. Good news is I’ve got the tire in stock. Bad news is I’m slammed today. Earliest I can get you back on the road is probably late this afternoon… maybe early evening if nothing else comes in.”

He jerks his thumb toward a small waiting area with a couple of old plastic chairs, a vending machine, and a TV playing some daytime talk show on mute.

“You can hang out here if you want. There’s a diner about a block down if you get hungry. Or you can head into town and kill some time. Up to you.”

He heads back to your car, already pulling tools off the wall.

You drop your bag on one of the plastic chairs and sit down, rubbing your face. The frustration is still sitting heavy in your chest… along with the lingering images of Loretta’s body and that final wink and tit-squeeze as you drove away.

Maybe it really is over.

You glance around the quiet workshop. The mechanic is focused on your car. No one else is around right now.