The drive between Monahans and Pecos, Texas is a desolate one with ne’er a stop, except an old 1950’s style motel with a blinking “no vacancy” sign hanging out in front of it on a pole. Motels in these parts fill up quick with road weary travelers once dusk sets in.

I passed a car on the side of the road, an older model Oldsmobile, with the hood up. Instinctively, I had slowed down a bit as I approached, to see if I saw anyone in need of assistance. Not seeing anyone, I kept on going. I looked in my review mirror, wondering if the person had managed to find the help they probably needed. Breaking down in this part of Texas was a near-death sentence, since the nearest road side stop was about 50 miles down the road.

I saw the figure of a young lady sitting in the shade of the car on the desert side of the vehicle and fearing she was probably in some type of distress, I wheeled around across the dry grass media and back down the opposite side of the divided highway. I passed the car and about a quarter of a mile past it, I looped back in a cut through area of the median.

I pulled up behind the vehicle and well off to the side of the road, mainly so the person sitting beside the car could see me and to insure I was not in any danger of being struck by a passing eighteen-wheeler.

The young lady quickly made it to her feet, I suspect, because she probably was happy to see someone stopping, but also because she was leery and scared at the same time. This was a very desolate area.

I rolled down my window and hollered out to ask her if she needed any help.

“Do you have anything to drink?” She hollered ack at me, standing beside the broken-down car. I did not. Knowing she probably wouldn’t get into a car with a total stranger, I asked if she wanted me to call anyone or she wanted to use my cell phone to call for help.

She slowly walked in my direction, her hand over her eye brows, trying to gage whether I was some type of threat or pervert. I extended my hand out the driver’s side window with my cell phone in hand.

She cautiously approached where I was parked behind her car. I could see her looking to see if I had anyone with me, which I did not.

“I really appreciate you stopping,” she declared as she stepped closer to the driver’s side window. She was young, probably about twenty-one or twenty-two, thin and sporting cut-off shorts and a pull-over cotton, spaghetti-strap white shirt and sandals. Her long brown hair was neatly tied back in a pony-tail.

“I’m Brandy,” she said, introducing herself.

“Tony, I replied. I offered her my phone to call someone for help.

“It’s getting dark,” she replied. “I don’t live very far from here.”

As she spoke, I could tell she was sizing me up and the potential for danger.

“Would you mind giving me a ride?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied, “Hop in.”

I moved some papers in had in the passenger seat to the back seat as she rounded my car and then settled into the front seat.

“I really appreciate you stopping,” she said, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen into her face. She was cute. I glanced at her left hand to see if perhaps she was wearing a wedding band. She was not.

“You’ll have to tell me where to go,” I said.

“You’re doing fine and going in the right direction,” she replied. She made a vain attempt to readjust her shorts, but no matter how hard she tried to readjust them, she was going to show me quite a bit of leg.

“So what do you do?” she inquired. I told her I was an inspector for a major franchised hotel chain and that I was on a business assignment, on my way to El Paso, to check out a franchisee.

“You’re a long way from El Paso,” she replied.

“I know,” I replied. “I drive until I get there.”

“So that’s all you do?” she pressed, “Drive and check out hotels?”

“…and restaurants,” I added.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do any of them fail the inspections?”

“Sometimes,” I replied, “Sadly,”

“What happens then?” She pressed.

“Well, they could lose their flag,” I said.

“Their flag?” she asked.

“Their sign that supports them as a named business,” I explained.

“Oh, I see,” Brandy replied.

“You’ll have to tell where to go,” I told her.

“I’ll let you know,” she said as we hummed down the blacktop.

“Are you married?” she asked.

“No,” I replied. “Divorced.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Sorry to hear that.”

“No problem,” I replied, “What about you?”

“Not married,” she replied. “The choices out here are slim.”

“So, what does a pretty girl do way out here? I asked.

“We wait for hotel inspectors to happen by,” she replied.

I chuckled. She had a great sense of humor to match her charming personality and good looks. She pulled at the rubber band that held her hair in place and allowed her hair to fall gently across her shoulders. She dug into her scalp with her manicured nails and gently self-massaged her head.

“The heat was getting to me,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, “I could tell.”

“Do you mind if I take off this shirt?” she asked. “I am burning up.”

“Go for it,” I said.

She pulled the sweat soaked white shirt over her head and held it in her lap. She had on a white lace bra that held back her 36 dds. I did my best to not look, and focus on the road, but it was hard.

“It’s Ok to look,” she finally said, sensing the awkwardness. “They’re just boobs.”

I apologized.

“It’s OK,’ she replied. “I am a nature-lover. When I am at the house, I rarely even get dressed, unless it’s the Fed Ex guy delivering something or one of the ranch hand stopping by.”

“Do tell,” I replied. “So, I guess you like nudist camps.”

“Not really,” she replied. “hanging out at the house in the buff is about the riskiest I get. Every now and then, I’ll go for a ride in the Jeep, in the buff, just for pure fun of it, but the rest of the time, I’m pretty normal.”

“So, what about you?” she asked. “Ever do anything risky?”

“I made love to my ex standing up in the back of a comedy club,” I said.

“No way!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I once gave a blow job to a boyfriend in the bleachers at a football game,” Brandy replied. “We had a blanket to cover us up.”

I was surprised at how fast our conversation had turned to sex. We were complete strangers and here we were talking about sexual escapades, humming down the black top, to God only knows where.

As we chatted, I couldn’t help but notice she had unfastened the top button of her cut-off shorts. Her thumb was eased into the opening, only partially hidden by the balled-up shirt she held in her lap.

“There will be a farm to market road about two miles up,’ she said. “Turn right on that road.”

I had a compact disc in the player and she hummed along, then mouthed the words to a Bruno Mars hit.

“I love this song,” she said. “It makes me want to par-TAY!”

I tuned in the farm to market road.

“Three miles down is a dirt road, turn in there and I’ll open the gate,” she instructed. I tuned in at the gate. I watched as she stepped out of my car and opened the gate. I drove through it and she re-latched it and then settled back into her seat beside me. She casually flipped her hair back over her shoulders.

The road meandered past a few oak trees and over a small hill. I pulled up in front of a one story stone house.

“Come in,” she instructed.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, stepping out of the car and up to the porch of the house. She went straight in through a screen door and I followed.

“Get comfortable,” she instructed, as she disappeared into what I was pretty sure was a bedroom. I sat down on a leather sofa and surveyed the very western-like motif of aged oak and mesquite and cow hides. A few seconds later and Brandy emerged from her bedroom, butt ass, stark naked. I guess the shock of seeing her completely naked must have registered on my face.

“I told you,” she said, “When I am at home, I don’t wear any clothes.”

She sauntered over to the open bar-like kitchen and I watched as she dug through the refrigerator and fished out a pitcher of tea.

“Tea or a beer?” she asked, looking over at me.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I replied.

She pulled out a six pack from the refrigerator and sat it on the countertop. She pulled a can from the plastic that held the pack together and popped the top as she walked in my direction.

“You can get more comfortable,” she remarked as she approached where I was seated, extending her arm and handing me the beer. I was eye level with her shaved koochie.

“You don’t have to get naked,” she said, handing me the beer, “but at least take off your shirt.”

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped out of it as Brandy took up a seat on the couch next to me, leaving a small space between us.

“it’s been a while since I’ve had anyone sit and share a beer with me,” She said. “I guess I should break down more often.”

“So, I have to ask,” I pressed, ‘What do you do out here?”

I manage the ranch,’ she said. “We have over three hundred head of cattle and I make sure the ranch hands check on them and that the water wells remain active and the cows have water and feed.”

“ . . and you’re not married?” I pressed.

“Guys can’t handle a strong-willed woman running a ranch,’ she replied. “I can be a real bitch when I need to be.”

I chuckled.

She silently reached over and pulled my penny loafers off from my outstretched and propped up feet. In an instant, she was kneeling at my feet and had stripped me of my socks.

She tugged at the pant leg of my trouser.

“Come on, get comfy,” she pressed.

I was a bit nervous. She tugged on my pant leg a second time.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “I don’t bite.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” I replied.

“Oh wow, a wild man,” she replied as I unfastened my belt, the top snap to the trousers and unzipped my pants. I stopped before raising my butt to lower them.

“I have to warn you,” I said, “seeing you in the buff created a small issue for me, so I apologize in advance.”

“It’s all good,” she replied. “We’re both adults.”

There was no way to hide my obvious “issue’ as I stripped off my pants and the bulge in my spandex underwear became more visible. She stood in front of me, her arms crossed and stared down at me.

“Small issue?” she pressed, taking note of the bulge in my underwear. “I’d say that’s not a small issue.”

I apologized.

“That’s OK,’ she replied. “It’s not like I haven’t ever seen an erect penis.”

She clapped her hands in front of me.

“Come on, take it all off!” she instructed.

I stripped out of my spaandex underwear, my manhood standing at full attention.

“Nice package,’ she said, plopping down on the cowhide rug on the floor next to where I sat with my legs outstretched on the ottoman.

“This is interesting,” she mused, crossing her arms and placing them on my leg as she looked up at me for my reaction, just mere inches from my manhood.

“Do you mind if I feel it?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, “Go for it.”

She slipped a forefinger along the back side of my erection. My cock throbbed, turning a bright red as the blood flow got trapped in place.

“Nice,” she said, studying my tool, “very nice.”

She sat back on the rug, her hands behind her, propping herself up, smiling.

“I could easily kidnap you, you know that?” she mused.

“Wouldn’t bother me,” I replied.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she taunted.

“I don’t think I’d mind,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a few ranch hands.”

“It’s not the ranch hands you’d have to handle,” she teased.

“I reckon you’re probably right,” I said.

“So . . . do you find me attractive?” she pressed, sitting forward and pulling her long brown hair over her soft shoulders.

“I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” I sarcastically replied.

“We haven’t made it that far,” she replied.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Good question,” she said, making her way to her feet. She extended her arm and hand in my direction and helped me to my feet. Before I knew that was happening, she had pulled me into her bedroom and all hell broke loose.

My desert angel was really a desert devil. I didn’t make it to El Paso that night. I feel asleep listening to the winds rustling the glass window panes, the faint howls of desert coyotes and a soft breath on my neck.