Hair To Stay Erotica

Do it. I dare you.

Jim had a few seconds to decide. Hours on the road, hands cemented to the wheel by a layer of sweat, and sick of every CD in the company car’s changer. The monotony of selling pharmaceuticals. The fucking road, never-ending, eyes turning to liquid after staring into the sun for hours on end. He had a few seconds to decide.

Ahead, she sat on her pack at the side of the road.

I dare you.

It had been nagging him a lot these past few weeks–the inner idiot. The one that wanted to quit spending his time driving all over the province, the one that wanted to walk into the office and say to hell with all you jam-asses. Now it wanted him to break his boredom by picking up a hitchhiker. It was weak, sure. Silly, even. It wouldn’t be a bold, life-changing event to spend a few hours in the car with a stranger on company time. But it was the best he could manage until some manager’s nattering babble pushed him to do something with a little more punch.

He slowed to pull over, all the while his salesman dependability roiled in his gut and begged him to keep going. But he didn’t.

And as he pulled to the side of the road, he noticed the hitchhiker’s breasts straining the ten-sizes-too-small shirt. He noticed her freckled face edging towards the open window, and brown hair at her shoulders glinting in the sunlight.

He cleared his throat and leaned over. “Where to?”

“Wherever.”

“Ah . . .”

She let out a short laugh. “I mean, however far you’re going is fine with me. It’s hot, and any ride would be great.”

He watched her face while she shoved an oil-stained canvas bag onto the back seat. There were a few creases around her eyes, but she could have been a slightly rough twenty, or an extremely well-preserved forty.

Getting aroused wasn’t part of the plan. It was something he hadn’t thought of, but there was something about her–the pointed nose, glowing complexion, freckles, and dimple in her cheek–that was almost faery-like. Only faeries were usually flat-chested, and Jim couldn’t help glancing at her breasts as she settled in. They were a little pointy, and on just the right side of well-endowed. And they were real. Oh, how they jiggled.

“I really appreciate this.” She slammed the door, like someone who had never experienced a luxury car and was used to rusted pickup trucks.

“No problem.”

There. He’d done it. Picked up the gauntlet he’d thrown himself. Now it seemed banal–what had he thought would happen? What could possibly change by picking up a hitchhiker?

“I’m Dana, by the way.”

He kept his eyes on the road. Her voice was confident and loud as fuck, like that stocky woman in the apartment next to his who played softball, but not annoying. “Jim.”

“And what’s Jim doing this fine summer day?”

“Uh, going to Kamloops. Just have some accounts to visit.”

“Cool. Accounts. Didn’t think they needed company.”

He blushed. “Yeah, I mean . . . clients. I’m . . . I do sales.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her smirk, showing that dimple again. “Yeah, so what about you?”

“Going to Kamloops too. For the powwow.”

“Ah. Powwow.”

“You mean you’ve never been?”

“That’s not really my thing.” His voice cracked. This woman seemed alien to him, as if by picking her up he’d sent himself into an alternate reality. She was loud, but not obnoxious. She seemed friendly enough, but not in that patronizing way strangers are prone to. Her hair was actually kind of greasy-looking, and she wore no makeup, and was cool with spending days on the road in forty-degree weather like a goddamned hippie. As much as he tried, he couldn’t label her as anything in particular.

It was a tad uncomfortable: he was used to the stock characters he found in the bars. Jim would get a good buzz going, then begin to work the room for a piece of ass that would cause him the least trouble. There was the plain, dependable slut. There was the college student who thought she was a slut–these were the boring ones, and often showed more of their tits than the real ones, but clammed up in bed. The chicks with issues, who wore dark makeup and had scars on their arms–sometimes they could be interesting. But when the clothes came off, they all became similar. Shaved, plucked, and kind of cold.

Jim wasn’t afraid of casual sex. But these types of girls were distant and for all their overwrought screaming when he fucked them, didn’t appear to enjoy it all that much. They barely looked at him, and thought it was strange that he would want to watch their faces while he railed them into a few moments of retail-quality ecstasy. Sex in a vacuum.

The woman in the car with him was different. But how? If he fucked her, he’d find out. If he watched her masturbate in the seat next to him, he might see what he only caught a hint of in the curiosity gleaming in her eyes, and in the way her lips stayed open slightly.

He shook his head and banished the thought. What was he thinking? Had his sex life not shown him that it was impossible? And, that he was too timid to look for it outside the booze-soaked masturbation of the bars?

Dana slipped her shoes off and planted a bare foot on the Cadillac’s dash. “Looks like it might rain.”

“It would sure cool things down.”

“Nah, not here, it just ends up hot and wet.” She inhaled deeply and sighed. “Fuck, is it humid today. I love it.”

Eyes still transfixed on the pavement rushing towards him, Jim half-watched Dana. An ankle bracelet jingled as she tapped her foot to the radio. She raised her arms and yawned.

He thought he saw something. Something he’d never seen before. Pit hair.

But no, no, Jim, you weren’t really watching her. You’ve been driving for hours, it’s boiling hot, and you’ve been in a shit mood all day.

His heart leaped, and he focused totally on the road. Crashing the company car wasn’t an option. Besides, what kind of freak stares at armpits? He almost laughed at himself. Of course, he could stare at her tits all he wanted–there was nothing wrong with that. Not that he did.

But there was nothing to look at, anyway. She was a woman. It was his vision that was fuzzy, not Dana’s underarms.

“You always this uptight or did I catch you on a bad day?”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulders. They’re like up to your ears.”

He jammed them down. Now she passed her hands through her hair. Screw it, he thought, and glanced over. And his heart leaped once more.

Furry.

Who was this person? Ball-busting feminist? Homeless underclass who couldn’t afford a bloody razor? More stock characters, things he wanted to avoid, especially since he knew Dana was clearly in the “other” category.

And why did he care? He was just giving her a ride. He’d never see her again. Sure, he tossed around the idea of passing his hands over her breasts, fingering her pussy, but knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“The road.”

“Huh?”

“The flippin’ road, genius! Watch the road!”

He snapped his gaze forward and wrenched the wheel, just as the car had begun to cross the line.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She chuckled. “I don’t see the big deal, really.”

“Huh?”

“You nearly killed us both because you were staring at my gorgeous pit.” She raised her arm and put on an exaggerated supermodel face, apparently aware of the irony.

“Ah. No, I wasn’t.”

“Bullshit you weren’t. It’s okay, though. Just don’t kill us over it, right?”

He nodded. Besides being shocked at her proud display of something that generally wasn’t something to be proud of, Jim felt something visceral and strange. Some reaction he’d never experienced. It crawled in his chest, made him grind his teeth.

It wasn’t disgust. Jim knew what disgust was, and though this was just as strong as disgust, it wasn’t.

Hot chick. Hairy pits. Hot chick. Hairy pits. The two terms seemed destined to obliterate each other, but–

The wheel shuddered and the car pulled to the left. A rumbling resonated in the floor; it must have been a flat tire. Ahead lay a turnout, and luckily for them, it led into one of the roadside parks that skirted Lake Okanagan. He slowed down and pulled in.

“Damn it.”

“You know how to change one of those, right?”

“Sorry about this, hopefully the next car that picks you up is going to have better tires.”

“Nah, I can wait.”

“Really? I’m sure someone else is going to come along before I can get this thing going again.”

She shrugged. “If you want me to go, sure. I just thought I’d keep you company.” She blushed a little. “I know what it’s like to drive alone for hours on end, that’s all. You’ve got that look about you.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean that.” He still needed to figure her out, find a way to explain her. Maybe there was no explanation. Maybe people were more complex than that. He hoped to god that this was the case, and that he’d find out.

He unclasped his seatbelt and glanced at her for a moment. Thunder purred in the distance, but there wasn’t a hint of rain yet.

They both got out of the car, Jim heading to the trunk for the spare tire. He sensed Dana hovering near him. “Ah, shit.”

“What?”

He groped around the massive trunk, but he knew he’d find nothing. The cavity was empty. “Those assholes gave me a car that doesn’t have a spare.” He slammed the lid and started to shuffle towards the picnic benches. He’d have to call someone, which meant he was stuck there for who knew how long. Aspens swayed overhead, and the wind barely cooled the sweat on his forehead.

They sat for a moment, while Jim called roadside assistance. After that, he turned around to face Dana, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. The flat mildly annoyed him, but it would have been worse had he been alone. She was there with him–strange and somehow beautiful, and even though she confused him, there was an otherworldly spark about her, something outside of his machinelike existence as a tongue-tied beta male. The flat meant he’d be late for his appointment, but with Dana there, he didn’t have the luxury of immersing himself in his own anxieties.

“Nothing to do but wait,” he said.

A gust crashed through the trees, tossed her hair in her face. She reached up to smooth the strands, and Jim caught another glimpse of the hair under her arms. Light brown, almost blonde. Parts of it wicked together, probably from the damp air–nobody could not sweat in this weather. His mouth turned dry as the clay hills across the highway, and his eyes wouldn’t budge from her arms. So foreign, so far from his realm of experience that he just wanted to–

His gaze wandered back to her face, just as she caught him looking.

“You don’t get out much, do you Jim?”

“Well yeah, sure I do. I mean, I do stuff.”

“But you don’t pick up hitchhikers.”

“No, I guess not.” But that was the furthest thing from his mind. He scratched a few flakes of paint off the picnic table and tried to make sense of what he’d seen. She didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, she did what she wanted. If that’s what the public was allowed to see . . .

“I like to travel this way. Hate driving on the highway. When I’m back home, sure. But when I take the summer off, this is the way to go.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Catch people off guard, on the road, see what they’re really like. If I go to a bar, I know everyone’s got their ‘I’m in a bar’ hat on. Here, nobody cares. I’ll never see most of them again. So, I wear skimpy clothes, show my fur, say whatever’s on my mind, and see what happens.”

Jim met her eyes, less self-conscious and concerned with his job now that there was nothing to do but wait for a ride. “You think strangers are more honest than people you know?”

Dana leaned forward, and her cleavage caught his eye. “Yeah. You already know me better than the people who work for me.”

“Uh. Oh yeah?”

She shook her head. “They don’t have a clue. And I think it’s the same with you, Jim.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got way more imagination than you let on.”

“How do you figure?”

“You picked me up. You’re talking with me like a normal human being. You think I’m a weirdo, but you’re still here and still listening. Not a lot of guys are like that, you see. I pay attention. I’m an expert people-watcher. Doesn’t matter how beautiful a woman is; if there’s one little thing about her that doesn’t fit with men’s boring ideas about what a hot woman is, they’ll puke and backpedal and call her names.”

He felt like a fraud, like he didn’t deserve any praise for following through on his self-imposed dare. There was curiosity about her, but he was still holding back, still wary. Why had he picked her up? He had been bored. He wanted something different, even if it was just a few hours driving with a stranger to talk to, never knowing if they had a gun or a knife or wanted to fuck him or steal his car. Something he’d probably never do again, and not care to remember.

The wind surged once more, punctuated by another burst of thunder. There were a few tourists milling about, but many were packing up and heading for their cars. Old people finished with their box lunches, families terrified of rain sprinted to their minivans. Cars whizzed by, the trees shuddered and the wind rushed in their leaves, white noise isolating them both as they chatted about nothing in particular. Dana was no vagrant but a woman who owned three shops in Vancouver. She wasn’t specific. It was entirely possible that she was some billionaire who had found her own cure for affluenza in her furry wandering. Jim avoided talking about his work, talked about jazz, traveling, and the weather.

Twenty minutes into it, Dana rose and lit a cigarette. She ambled into the park, and Jim followed. When he stole glances at her, he either glazed over the fact that she was a furry chick, or caught glimpses of the tufts under her arm and felt a twinge in his spine, as if he’d discovered some secret that the man didn’t want him to know. He flitted between indifference and arousal, all the while Dana nattered on, her voice intoxicating like a saxophone solo dripping with sex and sleaze. They collided as they walked, once, then again, as if by accident. But Jim damned well knew he wasn’t suffering from some palsy that made him brush against her.

Dana finished her cigarette and licked her lips. They came to a sheltered area near the washrooms.

“This is like, the only spontaneous thing you’ve done in a while, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Sad, isn’t it?”

“Nah.”

Go on. I dare you. That voice again. He barely recognized his inner idiot, the same one that had told him to pick up a hitchhiker.

She put her arms up once again, stretched. “As long as you’re doing what you want, it’s all cool. But you don’t seem happy with what you’re doing.”

Do it you pansy, she’s been goading you this whole time and you’ve played coy like a thirteen year old altar boy.

He felt his hands swell as his heart thudded. The rug had been ripped from his feet. His head spun as if he were falling. Here was a chick he didn’t know but did, in a way, and who made him feel sick to his stomach with a yearning to fuck, who was also supposed to be revolting. The fact that he didn’t find her revolting made his pulse jump even more.

Being a timid beta male, Jim didn’t dive in and kiss her. But he did stroke her arm, touching fine dark hair at first, then resting his palm against her skin. Immediately his lame Dockers khakis felt two sizes too small in the crotch, and Dana looked up at him with a wry grin. He angled in closer, and ran his hand along her exposed lower back. In the bar, there was no guesswork. Here, there was something more–he had to improvise. Ejaculation was the furthest thing from his mind; the goal here was foreign to him, and he knew even less about how to get there.

Thunder sounded again, but the blood roaring in Jim’s ears blotted it out–everything outside the area of their bodies sounded distant, as if coming through a tinny radio. He lowered his head and kissed her, and before he could second guess himself, she yanked him closer, ground her hips into him. Her tits mashed against his chest–she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples pressed sharply into him. Warmth rolled off her in waves. He trailed his hand along her spine, and she arched, then pulled away.

Jim felt a wave of embarrassment flood his face. “What–I’m sorry. I don’t know what I–”

“Shut up, Jim. I don’t want to do it on concrete, that’s all. The grass is better.”

“Do it?” He was throbbing all over, felt as if he’d taken a dozen shots of espresso.

“Well, yeah. I knew it as soon as I saw that glazed over look when you stared at my pits. It was funny.” She rubbed her hand near his crotch. “And I think you’re the kind of guy who can handle someone like me.”

She glanced around frantically, then pointed to a secluded area near a bunch of lilacs.

“What about the car?” He couldn’t yet decide if she had complemented or insulted him, but he couldn’t resist. Not now.

“Fuck the car. This is better.”

Public. Screwing in public. But Jim was too dumbfounded to give it much thought, and when they arrived at the lilacs, she shoved him to the ground. It nearly winded him, but Dana was quick to squirm out of that tight shirt and descend on him. As he unbuttoned his shirt, she went for his neck, first with a light touch of her tongue, then with teeth. And it was hard.

Riding the wave of shock from Dana’s fangs, Jim twisted and forced her into the grass. She laughed and worked at his belt, while he tentatively stroked her breasts, rolled her dark nipples between his fingers. Being that they were pressed together side-by-side, she didn’t have much luck with his pants. But Jim didn’t care. He kissed her once more–she tasted like heaven, and the way she sucked his lip, lingering and playing with her teeth–

Dana rolled onto her back and stretched her arms behind her head. Yes–the hair was still there. It hadn’t been his imagination.

Once again, Jim stopped for a few seconds, unsure of how to react. His heart rattled in his ribs. They were going to fuck–there was no question about that. But.

Another idea sparked in his mind, something he’d never seen, nor heard of, yet seemed obvious. Unknown territory; two dense, light brown, female bushes of it.

He mouthed one of her breasts, and his hand snaked towards her crotch. He found her thong first, found his hand slipped along its slick fabric. He liked playing with a woman’s pussy through her thong, feeling the fabric soaked with her horniness. There was something about the way he knew that in a minute or so, he would plunge beneath the thong and feel her vulva, glide between her lips–the softest thing he could imagine.

Remembering that he had uncharted waters to navigate, he slowly moved his mouth around to her naked underarm. He plunged his tongue into her pit, and drew it across. Her back arched, her hand whirled around and clutched his ass. A faint sound escaped her lips. What little scent she had was a drug–an instant shock that buzzed in his head and crawled down his spine. She squirmed beneath him, and he licked again, this time carrying it to her elbow.

“Oh, you son of a bitch, you didn’t tell me you could–”

He did it again, this time on the other side. She let out a laboured sigh. It felt as if he’d broken down a wall. He plunged into her again, almost horrified but more aroused than anything, taking in the subtle scent, the silkiness. There was no dirt, no offensive smell. But it was unapologetic, uncompromising, and it sent a tingling into his testicles he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d figured out how to beat off.

They slid out of their remaining clothes and pressed into each other. Her dark bush brushed his thigh, and he adjusted his hips to explore her opening with his penis. She was warm, smooth, almost like glass but infinitely silky. He trailed his hand down her belly, stopping for a moment to rub the line of fuzz that joined with her mound. He went lower, petting her lips in circles. The faint scratching sound of pubic hair under his palm fell against Dana’s gasps, sounding almost like the rustling leaves. He slid a finger between her lips, coated his hand in her juice. When he brought his hand to his mouth to taste, she closed her mouth around it, both taking in her scent and taste. Jim turned ecstatic. The only thing better than the taste of a woman was when he tasted it on her own mouth.

The trees rustled louder. He barely noticed droplets of water pelting his back. All he knew was her mouth, her pussy grinding against his testicles and penis, the outpouring of heat and wetness.

And what if someone saw them?

Didn’t matter. He almost wish some stuck-up bore would see them, watch while he and the indecent hairy woman continued breaking down prison walls.

Dana forced him upright. “Lay down.”

He did, and she crawled across him and pushed her ass into his face. She did what he’d been imagining all day–wrapped those lips around his dick, tongued him just below the head in the spot that women tended to ignore. Her pussy, black-forested and engorged, swayed in front of him, and a wave of spice-tinged air came over him. He eased open her lips and found her opening with his tongue. Her pussy hair caressed his face, and a rush of her juices ran into his mouth. When he drank his fill, he took her inner lips in his mouth, worked his way to her clit, straining his neck to reach. He sucked it into his mouth, felt her swell against his tongue.

The vibrations of her moans went into his penis, and it wasn’t long before both of them couldn’t keep still enough to continue. Dana whirled around, grabbed him by the hair to sit him upright, and straddled him. His dick slid into her dense bush, rubbing against damp pubic hair on its way into her. She fucked him with a kind of rhythm he’d never known in all the boring, self-absorbed bar sluts he’d known. A quick look at her face showed that her eyes were open. He watched her face while her hips pumped harder, watched the expression change, her mouth twitch. For the first time in his life, a woman looked him in the eye as she fucked him. He knew the score–maybe he’d never see her again, but for once there was no hiding from each other while they squirmed and bit one another.

Her fingernails raked his back. He could smell her pussy, hear her panting, and feel her heart racing through her breasts. Minutes later–five, ten, who knew–the rain poured. Warm water rushed down her chest and into the fuzzy trail around her navel. Jim ran his hands along her nipples, then under her arms, into the wet hair. He began to laugh. He laughed at the meaningless non-issue of her hair. It was just another body part. Animal fur, something to be admired as much or as little as any other body part.

Before long, they slipped against each other, eyes covered by soaked hair, water cascading down their skin.

Skin, sweat, sex, rainwater. And a bit of hair.

#

“Didn’t think you had it in you, captain.” Dana pulled the shirt on. Her face still glowed red.

“I thought you wanted me to.” Jim knotted his tie, which was soaked and clammy, but he wasn’t exactly thinking after the rush of fucking Dana.

“I did. Sort of. But I wasn’t expecting that.”

He winced from the fingernail gouges on his back. They’d felt good at the time, and part of him wished the burning pain would stay forever. It was still raining, and he watched Dana fix her hair, glancing at her underarms for a split second. But he gravitated back to her face, that pixie grin.

“That’s what I like about doing this. People are complex, surprising creatures, Jim.”

“Yeah. They are.”

“You’re the only guy I’ve been with who did what you did. I thought you were a nice guy and all, but I was expecting a bit of a bore.”

He gave her a questioning look. What the hell was she talking about? He ran over the fragmented memories from just minutes earlier, found nothing noteworthy, other than that Dana was a feminine force of nature. Her scent, her smooth skin, her laugh.

She raised her arm, gestured at her pit. “You know . . . that. Feels incredible, but damned if anyone would do it. Goosebumps just thinking about it.” She shivered and made a silly noise.

“Oh, that.” He rubbed his chin for a second. “Just seemed like the thing to do, I guess. No big deal.”

Once the towtruck had helped them back on the road, Jim drove towards Kamloops free of the constant tension in his shoulders. Dana sprawled in her seat and fell asleep. Maybe it was the soothing patter of the rain on the windshield, or swishing tires on wet pavement.

Maybe he’d never know another person on that level again. Was it tragic? He wasn’t interested in the answer.