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Her third day in the saddle, and she was feeling the strain. If
she kept to her goal of seven hundred miles a day, she'd be two thirds
of the way home when she pulled in for the night, and though she was
stiff, sore, and bored, she was determined to make it. Due to her
condition and recovery abilities, she was functioning much better than
a normal person, of her sedentary nature, would have been. The
virus that changed her, only offered quick rejuvenation. It did
not minimize pain or soreness. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and it was cold. Dipping down from just below Cleveland, she was approaching Youngstown, Ohio, and the scenery was getting much more rural. She'd covered almost three hundred and fifty miles of Ohio, half of her riding day and she ready for a hot shower and whatever else she could scare up. She was almost too tired to care. Her last blood snack had been at the rest stop, and due to the stress on her body, she could benefit from another. The full moon was rapidly approaching, a time when she normally would need blood, so the extra stress was compounding her "need to feed." Route 80 ran to the north of Youngstown and she didn't want to get to far from her intended route. An interstate sign advertised lodging, so he took that exit, hoping for the best. The exit ramp led to a very rural setting, sporting a sign point to the right indicating lodging, one mile. She sighed and accelerated, the promised lodging appearing well within the promised one mile. It was a motel, a little seedy, but reasonably well kept. "All I want to do is bathe and sleep," she muttered. "I don't care what it looks like. I'd even take a room in the Bate's Motel, right about now." She pulled in front of the office and killed the engine. Walking in, she met a very hostile manager. "We don't allow your kind in here," he barked. Eliza felt hostility wash over her. She snatched off her helmet and shook her fair free and growled, "And just what kind is my kind, Sir?" When he saw that she was female, he did a double take, and lowered the baseball bat he'd been holding. "I'm sorry, Ma'am! I thought you were some sort of gang banger. There's been some trouble around and I just don't want any problems." He seemed genuinely distressed at his error, so Eliza relented. "I hear you," she said. "All I want is a room, a hot shower and some sleep. I have another thousand miles to go and I'm really beat." He nodded. "I have just the thing for you. This room is right next to the water heater. You should be able to shower all night long if you need to." He smiled extending the key. She assured him that would not be the case, made the night's payment in cash and retired to the indicated room. It was neat and clean, with no used condoms in the trash or panties hidden under the bed. The bathroom was equipped with a large towel, a regular and a smaller towel. "Oh, heaven," she breathed. A half hour later, she was sitting on the large towel, that she'd placed on the bed and drying her hair with the smaller of the three. The room was pleasantly warm and moist from the shower. She'd tried some of the shampoos and lotions, much to her end of the day pleasure. She wrapped the medium towel around her hair, draped the large towel over her shoulders, stood and went to the large double window. She flipped the curtains open and looked up at the moon, feeling her fangs tingle. "Damn, I could use a snack!" A pickup rode by her window and the driver slammed on the brakes, obviously staring at her, She reached up to close the curtains, 'accidentally' allowing the towel to slip from her shoulders, displaying all she owned to the driver. He grinned, his smile going from ear to ear. Eliza gave him a bump and grind, along with a grin, before flipping the curtain closed, obscuring his view. Not too surprisingly, within a few moments, she heard the pickup engine die, and there was a knock at her door. She shook her head. "I can't believe this," she mused. "Dinner is served." She opened the door and stepped back. The driver of the pickup was taller than she'd expected. He removed his "Cat" cap and twisted it in his hands. "Yes," Eliza said. "Uh, I don't normally do things like this but..." he hesitated. "But a naked lady in a window is too good to pass up," Eliza finished for him. "Ah, I don't think I'd say it exactly that way, but sorta. Yes, that's sort of it." He looked embarrassed. Eliza suppressed a giggle. "Do you have anything good to drink in that go-mobile of yours," she asked. He relaxed a little. "I have a bottle of Bacardi Golden. It's not the best, but it's not bad." "Well, Sir, I've had a long hard day and a shot or five of Bacardi might help me relax after my nice hot shower. Why don't you get it and bring it in, and I'll scare up some glasses. How's that sound?" "Sounds great to me," he said, quickly departing to get the promised bottle. Eliza busied herself getting two of the plastic glasses from the bathroom and getting the plastic off of them. "Do you need ice," he asked sticking his head in the door. "Nah, I don't use it. If you want some, I did see an ice machine next to the office." "I don't need it, either," he replied, coming into the room, looking uncomfortable. Eliza looked at him and felt a streak of devilment strike her. "What's wrong, Cowboy, never been in a room with a half naked, strange lady, before?" He gulped and shook his head. "Actually, I can't say I have. Things like that don't happen to guys like me." "I'm so bad," Eliza thought. "Well, how about a completely naked, strange lady, then?" She dropped the large bath towel that she'd been wearing as a wrap, displaying that she had nothing on under it. His eyes got larger and he visibly gulped. "If you'll pour us some of that rum, you can play with the toys," she said, smiling. "Let's face it. I'm tired, thirsty, and horny. You can take care of two out of three. Sleep will manage the other one. She didn't mention hungry, but she did think it and grinned, thinking that he'd take care of three out of the four. He poured, his hand shaking slightly. He handed her the glass, and when she took it, he stroked her side, running his hand up and down. She took his hand with her free hand, and as she took a large sip of the rum, placed his hand on her breast. She gulped the rest of the rum in the glass. "I said that you could play with the toys," she whispered. Three AM. Her eyes opened and she felt great. Her blood donor had been more than generous, though he may not have realized it. He grunted and rolled over. She smiled. This was a strange one. "Just one of those things, I guess," she thought. Once he'd relaxed a little, he'd been witty and fun. He was also a satisfying lover and an excellent snack. She wrote a quick note and wrapped it in a hundred dollar bill. The note said: Had a wonderful evening with you. Hoist a few for me.... Lizzy She stuck it in his wallet, which he'd made no effort to protect. "A babe in the woods," she thought. "Wonder how he's managed this long. She pushed the hog out of the motel court before starting it and she took off as gently as possible. A snarling chopper would not be appreciated at three thirty in the morning. Once back on the interstate, she let the big machine run. The damp, cool air made the engine even more efficient, and she let the speedometer hit 140 of the 160 on it before she backed off and eased back to a mere 70, which now felt really slow. She giggled, wondering what he'd think of her note and the hundred dollar bill. Normally, it worked the other way around. She'd have been removing money from their wallets, rather than putting it in. "I really am getting old," she thought. "Where is the Eliza that would beat them, eat them and leave them?" She sighed. "I'm getting soft." Long hauls in the AM, on the interstate, are a time for reverie. For some reason, Jerry had been on her mind lately. Cato, the man she'd met in Salt Lake City, who had known Jerry only made it more poignant. When Cato had come to her room, that night, he'd been absolutely hostile. He as much as accused or her trying to work some sort of scam on him and had announced that he was armed, and if anyone else showed up in the room, that he'd start shooting. Eliza's reaction of laughter did seem to confuse him, but it was just so incongruous that she had to laugh. She'd smiled and told him that she was not a con artist of any sort and that Jerry had been a very good and influential friend in her life. "How can I believe that," he'd asked. "You are far to young to have known Jerry. "Tell you what," she'd replied. "Ask me anything about him, and I'll answer you the best I can. Then I'll ask you something, and you do the same. I don't think you are working a con, but you many have stumbled on a good pick up line. Jerry is not that uncommon a name." "Where was he playing when you knew him," Cato asked. "At the Bristo. I never met Rolain. She'd been dead for some time," she answered. "The Bristo. Yes, I think I remember him telling me he'd gotten a gig at the Bristo. I hadn't seen him for some time and I'd called him. He seemed excited about. Said they'd let him play some real music." He stared at her. "You are NOT that old. Even if you were in your early 20's, you'd have to be at least 50, now." Eliza grimaced. "I don't know how to prove to you how old I am. All of my ID are, well, not exactly accurate." Cato lifted an eyebrow. "Wait a minute," he said. He mentioned a cat. If you can tell me the cat's name, I'll believe. "Hu," Eliza grunted. The only one she knew that had a cat then was her. That was Toby. "The cat's name was Toby," she said. He sat heavily on the bed. "There is no way you could have known!" He hesitated, thinking, "Eliza's cat's name. She knew Eliza's cat's name." He paused and stared at her, open mouthed. "Petite, long dark hair, Leather skirt, silk blouse, and," he looked around the room and saw her cape, that she'd hung up to air out. "Cape," he finished. She stood and held out her hand to him. "Hi, Cato. I'm Eliza." The sounding of an air horn, brought her out of her reverie. An eighteen wheeler was rapidly approaching and wanted to pass. She flicked the bike into the left lane, leaving the right lane open for him to pass in without having to change lanes. He blinked his lights in thanks, passing her like she was standing still. The air-wash rocked the bike, but she was ready and controlled it with no problem. That was just what you did when you were on a bike. If everyone plays "nice", there's room for all on the road. Most of the truckers do play nice. "This is good," she thought. "As big as they are, if they didn't play nice, we'd all be in trouble!" ~oOOOo~ |