It had started out more than a thousand miles ago as an extended road trip inspired by mid life crises. Velma and Charise, two divorced women in their late forties, who had been best friends for years, had packed up Velma’s car one day and headed west. Sick of dead end jobs, their kids all grown up and gone away, and fed up with the lack of eligible men in their east coast hometown, they decided things would simply have to be better somewhere, anywhere, else.
Velma was blonde and still possessed the killer body she had since high
school those many years ago. Charise had a mane of natural red hair and a trim pert figure that some models half her age would envy. Each of the
women had maintained a high level of raw sexuality over the years, first as
young single girls, then as housewives, and now as divorcees. They were
each also accustomed to being in charge sexually, which may have contributed to the breakup of their marriages (in addition to the fact their husbands had each been real assholes).
Somewhere in Iowa Velma and Charise got off the highway to enjoy the slower pace of the less traveled roads. On a long straight stretch bounded on each side by immense cornfields they noticed a figure ahead in the distance beside the road. As they approached, Charise said, “Hey, Velma, it’s a serviceman hitch hiking. Pull over.”
Velma maneuvered the car over to the shoulder, coming to a stop a few feet
from the soldier. He was around twenty the gals surmised, tall and ramrod
straight in appearance with a shock of closely cropped light brown hair and
he looked quite handsome in the crisp khaki of his uniform. He had a big
Iowa farm boy type of grin on his face as he walked toward the car. Charise
got out of the passenger side door and opened the door to the back seat
which was packed full of their luggage. “You can stuff your duffle bag in
there, soldier,” she said to him as he got to the car.
Read more…
