I Ran Out of Gas in Front of a Roadside Club

I know it’s the stupidest thing that can happen to someone behind the wheel, but that night everything piled up on me at once: I ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere and, to top it off, my phone was dead. It had already gone dark, and the only thing breaking the highway’s darkness was a neon sign some three hundred meters away, its blue and neon-pink letters spelling out a name: Lilith.

You didn’t need to be very bright to know what kind of place it was.

I pulled the car over to the shoulder as best I could and walked toward the lights with the sole intention of asking to use a phone. It was cold, and the gravel crunched under my sneakers. I figured that, whatever this place was, they wouldn’t refuse me a call.

At reception there was a girl behind the counter, wearing very little and looking supremely bored. Judging by the number of empty cars in the lot, the night was dead. She was a raven-haired beauty with generous curves, curly hair, and dark eyes. Stunning, really.

I greeted her with my best smile. From the expression on her face, she hadn’t expected a woman to walk in alone.

“Hi, sorry. I’ve run out of gas nearby and I need a phone,” I said.

“Sure, no problem,” she replied, handing me the landline from the counter as if nobody ever used it.

I was able to speak with roadside assistance and with two different tow trucks, but none of them could guarantee they’d get there in under three hours. I had no choice but to arm myself with patience. I hung up and handed the phone back.

“Thanks. Three hours, they say. Wonderful.”

“Why don’t you wait inside instead of in the car?” she offered. “It’s freezing out there, and at least there’s heating in here.”

While she spoke, I couldn’t stop looking around with curiosity. I’d never been in a place like this, and truth be told it was nothing special: a counter, a key rack for the rooms, a staircase, an elevator. To the right, the bar door. At the back, a kitchen and a dining room. It could have been the reception of any roadside motel.

The girl was wearing only some sort of lacy corset whose cups reached just to the edge of her areolas, and a Lycra short that barely covered half of her firm, perky ass. I surprised myself by staring at her more than I should have.

“By the way, where’s the bathroom?” I asked, more to play it cool than out of necessity.

“Across the bar, all the way at the back.”

I had to cross the whole place. There were the rest of the girls, gathered in groups, each one dressed in something smaller and more provocative than the last: minidresses, plunging necklines, lace that hid almost nothing. It was still early, and there were only two men, too busy groping their companions to notice me. What I did feel, though, were several strange looks drilling into my ass stuffed into tight jeans. They didn’t know me, and that unsettled them.

I admit I was looking too. I’ve always been pretty liberal about sex; so liberal, in fact, that I’ve never cared much about the gender of my partners. I liked seeing them like that, lightly dressed, with that mix of fatigue and brazenness. Seated in the bathroom, relieving my bladder and my nerves, I realized the absurd situation I’d gotten myself into was starting to turn me on.

When I came out of the stall, I found another girl in front of the mirrors, very different from the one at reception. She was small, slender, perfectly built, with a sweet little face and huge eyes. She was touching up her makeup in denim shorts so short they might as well have been underwear and a black lace bra.

“Did you come for the job interview?” she blurted with a smile.

I washed my hands and sat on the counter beside her.

“No, not at all. My car broke down and I came in to call a tow truck.”

“Ah, better for you,” she said. “Tonight you’re seeing it on a quiet night. Normally this place is full of sleazes.”

She rested a hand on my thigh, unhurried, sizing me up.

“This isn’t a good life, this one.”

I lifted my hand and stroked her face. I brushed the edge of her jaw with two fingers, almost reaching her lips.

“Then why do you do it?”

“For the money, obviously. Though I’ve gotten so sick of men that now I like girls. Especially ones like you.”

Her hand moved from my thigh to my waist, and before I could answer she kissed me. Soft, brief, with no trace of shyness. Around there, clearly, nobody wasted time. Occupational deformation, I suppose.

“Come on, let’s go outside,” she murmured against my mouth. “I’m curious.”

***

At reception, a blonde was already occupying the brunette’s place, who was waiting for us at the bar. She had asked me for a soda without even bothering to ask what I wanted.

“The alcohol here is terrible, pure swill,” she said as I sat down. “But nobody comes here for the drinks, you can imagine.”

We settled on the stools in a discreet corner, the three of us. The brunette at reception said her name was Bruna; the small one from the bathroom, Lena. Bruna leaned toward me until her cleavage was right under my chin.

“We saw you first,” she said, “though there are a few who’d love to get their hands on you. And I’m not telling you where they’d put that hand.”

“I can imagine,” I replied. “But if things go further, you’re not planning to charge me, are you?”

The question wasn’t entirely a joke. Bruna laughed.

“Tonight’s on the house. The night is dead and we feel like having some fun. If you do too, that is.”

And the truth was I did. Setting aside the obvious — they were both gorgeous — the situation had a delicious charge I hadn’t expected when I left home that morning. Lena wore a tiny backless top and a skirt so short that, against the velvet of the stool, I could see her entire thigh and part of her ass. Bruna toyed with the rough fabric of my jeans while her own arm brushed my bare one.

They told me stories while flirting with me, one on each side, speaking into my ear so their lips brushed it with every sentence.

“Once I was hired by two guys who wanted a threesome,” Lena said. “They were so awkward in front of each other there was no way they could get it up.”

“A married couple took me to their house once,” Bruna said. “One of the best jobs I’ve ever done. I really enjoyed it.”

I shared a few of my own dirtier adventures. I had to admit I’d been with women before, though always one at a time.

“The first was a friend of my mother’s. She seduced me, not the other way around.”

“Mmm. Today you’re going to break your cherry with two at once, then,” Lena purred, and the pad of her finger raised goosebumps along my arm.

“You have such soft skin,” Bruna added. “It’s a pleasure touching you.”

“I think it’s time we go upstairs and be more comfortable, the three of us alone,” Lena said. “Don’t you think?”

Bruna had already taken a key from the rack. I took Lena’s hand, turned my head just enough to kiss her, and said the only honest thing I could think of:

“I’m dying for it. I’m dying for both of you.”

***

The room was a perfectly ordinary motel bedroom, with no extravagances. They didn’t even bother turning on the porn channel that cable had reserved for them. We were going to make the movie ourselves.

As soon as we closed the door, they pinned me between them. Bruna kissed my mouth fiercely while I felt Lena’s small, hard breasts against my back and her lips moving over my shoulders. I kissed back with all my tongue. They’d gotten me wet just by making me wait.

The two of them pulled off my tank top. Bruna immediately bent down to nibble my nipples while Lena unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down to my ankles.

“You have a perfect ass,” Lena said behind me.

“Well, make the most of it. I’m sure it won’t be the first one you’ve eaten.”

They took off my sneakers and finished removing my pants in a matter of seconds, handling me like a doll, until they left me in nothing but a simple cotton thong.

“What boring lingerie,” Bruna complained.

“I wasn’t planning on a threesome with two stunners like you. I like yours better.”

My hands weren’t still either. I loosened Bruna’s corset, freeing her enormous breasts, and slid two fingers inside her shorts until I found her wet and brushed her clit. She was panting against my ear. With my other hand I’d hiked Lena’s skirt up and was squeezing one firm ass cheek under the fabric. I threw my head back, offering them my neck, and Bruna took advantage of it to yank the thong off me in one pull.

“Have all women in your profession turned lesbian?” I asked between gasps.

“Not all of us,” Lena laughed. “But a lot of us have started liking women after seeing how men treat us.”

I bent down to eat Lena’s small, conical tits after I’d taken her top off in my hand. Her skirt had already fallen, and a black lace thong was the only thing covering her sex. In that position, my ass was at the perfect height for Bruna to kiss and lick my cheeks, even parting them to give me a quick lick that drew a moan from me.

“Into the shower!” Bruna ordered. “We need to be nice and clean.”

Now completely naked, they led me into a wide, flat shower big enough for all three of us without getting in each other’s way. Hot water poured over us and the gel did the rest: soap-slick skin let hands slide everywhere. I felt four hands at once, because they knew each other well and moved in sync; I, on the other hand, didn’t have enough fingers for that much body.

Their tongues gave me no respite, from the nape of my neck to my toes. There was always a hand or a mouth taking care of my sex, fingering me or stroking my clit. I came so many times under the water that by the time they got me out of the shower and carried me to the bed, I had hardly any strength left. Though I hadn’t stopped licking and caressing them either. The three of us had our orgasms without leaving the shower, panting like madwomen.

“You’re going to kill me!” I protested, laughing.

“With orgasms?” Lena kissed my shoulder. “You look tireless.”

Bruna lay down on the bed and told me to get on top of her, reversed, for sixty-nine. I felt her tongue parting my lips; I’d never been so soaked, and she didn’t waste a drop. Meanwhile, Lena, small and agile, devoted herself to my back and my ass with an almost devotional dedication, until she slowly fingered me with two fingers and a little lube from who-knows-where.

None of us kept time by anything other than how many times we came on the others’ tongues. But they had to start their turn at some point, and I had to find out what was going on with the tow truck. We dressed reluctantly: them in their minimal clothes, me in one of their lace thongs — I have no idea whose — and my respectable jeans. We said goodbye at the bedroom door with one last three-way kiss.

***

When I went back to the entrance, the blonde who had taken over reception invited me to a soda. It was apple soda, but with the ice it looked like whiskey. She was looking at me with a desire she no longer bothered to hide.

“Looks like they really treated you well,” she said.

By then, and in that place, I wasn’t going to play shy.

“What a pair of she-wolves. I’m exhausted.”

“If you’d let your guard down for one more minute, I’d be going upstairs with you,” she replied.

I gave everything she was showing me a good long look and thought it would have been a lovely option.

“I would have loved that. I’m sure I’d have a good time with you too.”

“Take my card. Call me someday; we can meet somewhere outside of here.”

On the cardboard rectangle there was a name, a phone number, and a profession: plumber.

“So you unclog pipes,” I said with a naughty smile.

“When yours need maintenance, you know who to call. Friend price. Or seeing the face those two were making when they came down, I’ll do it for free.”

By then the tow truck was already loading my car onto the highway. The night was starting to liven up and more customers were coming in, so I couldn’t stay with her any longer. But I took her card, and Bruna’s and Lena’s phone numbers, with the firm intention of repeating the experience on one of their nights off. Next time, at my place.