eBook Details

Hitchhiking to Ecstasy

Series: Weekend Getaways , Book 67.0
By: J. E. Wiseman | Other books by J. E. Wiseman
Published By: Secret Cravings Publishing
Published: Mar 09, 2013
ISBN # 9781618855862
Word Count: 7,763
Heat Index     
Eligible Price: $0.99

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Microsoft Reader, HTML, Mobipocket (.mobi), Epub

Categories: Romance>Contemporary Romance>Short Stories Romance>Erotic Romance


Hitchhiking to Ecstasy (Weekend Getaways) by J. E. Wiseman - Romance>Contemporary

When Vicki’s car slides into a ditch on an icy road, her cell phone doesn’t work and she is forced to hitchhike in the middle of nowhere in hopes of finding a phone. She is picked up by an older guy who takes her back to his cabin in the woods where she finds herself strangely attracted to him. Knowing he will not make the first move, she seduces him and they make passionate love. Has fate brought them together, or is it random luck that they met? Is this a one night stand? What does she want to happen? Will he agree to have her stay when she asks? Can a relationship with this age difference work? Find out whether Vicki has hitchhiked to heartbreak or ecstasy.
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Sensuality Rating:   Not rated
Excerpt for Hitchhiking

Damn, Shit, Fuck!” I banged my hands on the steering wheel. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I screamed, shaking my head from side to side, my long hair flailing. My car had just slid off the icy road into a ditch, and it was getting dark.

“Now what?” I muttered to myself, realizing there was no way I could back my car out. I was stuck.

I sat back thinking, knowing my cell phone was dead and I had lost the charger. I was going to finally start looking for it when I got home. “Who knew I would slide into a fucking ditch,” I said to myself, angrily rationalizing my procrastinating tendencies.

I’m going to have to hitchhike and see if I can find a phone. I knew it was dangerous for a woman to hitchhike, but I had no choice. “Oh well, here goes,” I said out loud, grabbing my backpack.

I zipped up my down vest, pulled my wool cap down over my ears, flipped my scarf around my neck and opened the door. I had to squeeze out because the door was jammed against the side of the ditch. Once I wiggled my way out, I stood on the icy dirt and looked around. It was getting darker and it was obvious not a lot of people used this road. I realized if I didn’t get picked up soon, no one would be able to see me.

I hope I don’t get picked up by some pervert! I walked up the road a little, glancing back at the front of my car down in the ditch. I stood there feeling the wind through my tight faded jeans. Fortunately, I was wearing boots that came up near my knees, my jeans tucked in them. I was really in an isolated spot and saw no signs of houses or lights; nothing but trees on both sides of the road.

“No one’s going to come,” I muttered. “Come on, Vicki, don’t be negative. Think positive thoughts. Someone’s going to come. Everything’s going to be alright.”

I paced back and forth for about ten minutes, getting colder and looking in both directions, hoping a car would appear. “What should I do if a car doesn’t come? Should I walk and hope I find a house, or should I sit in the car and just wait it out? Damn what a mess I’m in. Why did I decide to take the fucking scenic route?” I muttered. “Why do I like the back roads? Why am I so stupid?” I added, letting my negative tendencies rise again.

Suddenly, I thought I heard the sound of a car and got excited. Maybe I was in luck. I looked in the direction of the curve in the road. As the sound got closer, I saw the glow of headlights shining on the trees across from me. When I saw the car I moved closer to the edge of the road, stuck my thumb out, wishing I could make it longer and more emphatic, then extended my arm, waving it frantically.

“I hope it stops. Please stop. Please stop,” I whispered to myself, almost praying.

I saw the car slow down, but it didn’t stop until it was twenty or so feet ahead of me. It backed up as I ran towards the car. The window went down and I looked inside and saw a man with longish grey hair and a shaggy beard, but couldn’t see much more.

“Looks like you’re in a jam, miss,” he said.

“Yeah, I slid off the road. I need to find a phone to call a tow truck.”

“Hop in,” he said. “I live five minutes from here. You can use my phone.”

I opened the door and got in, putting my backpack on the floor. The car was warm and the radio was playing classical music.

“Guess you’re not used to driving on these icy roads,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not from around here. I was on my way back to Boston after visiting an old friend from college and decided, stupidly, to take a back road.”

He nodded and smiled at me. It was dark in the car, but I could see he had a nice smile. The classical music was soft, and I relaxed. He did not seem like a mad rapist. I don’t usually listen to classical music, but it was nice to listen to now, kind of soothing. We were both quiet as he drove, and I looked out the window most of the trip.

“Almost there,” he said, as we turned down a dirt road. He drove slowly over the bumpy road, steering the car around potholes. He turned down another narrower dirt road that had trees on both sides and a lot of curves.

“Where in the world are we?” I thought as we drove through the woods and then turned into a small lane. It was dark, but I noticed solar panels when we turned and drove up to a cabin surrounded by trees.

“Wow, you really live in the woods don’t you?”

“Yes, and off the grid,” he said. “This is my Shangri La,” he added as we parked.

“Cool,” I responded as I looked up at the cabin and saw a light in the window.

I grabbed my backpack and followed him up a path to the front door. When we entered, I felt the warmth of the woodstove and saw the glow of coals.

“How about if I make us some tea and I call George’s garage and let him know the story,” he said, taking off his wool cap. He then got some logs from the woodbin and threw them in the stove. “He’ll get you out.”

I looked around the cabin at all the wood. It was just one room with a smaller side room, a kitchen area and a bathroom. He had a round oak table by the window with his laptop on it. I noticed the plants on the windowsill, and a Begonia on the table.

“This is such a nice place,” I said as I walked around. “I never saw a wood ceiling before,” I said, looking up.

“That wood is over two hundred years old,” he said, putting water in the teapot. “I got it from an old barn they took down about fifteen years ago.”

I took my down vest and wool hat off, and put them on the clothes pole he had near the front door.

“By the way, my name is Peter, what’s yours?”

“Vicki,” I answered. “Short for Victoria,” I added

“I guessed it was short for Victoria.” He laughed, looking at me. I saw him glance at my tits then look away. “You don’t look very Victorian,” he said, smiling.

I was wearing a tight turtleneck shirt and no bra—hate them and only wear one when I have to. My faded jeans were tight and I knew they looked good on me, especially with the boots. I can tell by the way guys look at me that they like what they see, and I could tell Peter liked what he saw. I have to admit, I like being sexy and I like to fuck, but I am particular and don’t let just any guy get in my pants.

Hitchhiking to Ecstasy

By: J. E. Wiseman