My Girlfriend Lost the Bet and I Could Only Watch

The highway to the coast was so empty the asphalt seemed never to end. Lorena drove barefoot, her feet on the dashboard and her summer dress hiked up to mid-thigh. We had gone almost two hours without seeing another car, just the two of us and the steady hum of the engine.

It had all started the night before, with a stupid bet about a game. She lost. And when Lorena lost a bet, she carried it out without a word of protest. That had been the rule between us for years, and we both knew what it meant.

—There’s one coming up —I said, looking in the rearview mirror.

A huge truck was catching up with us in the left lane, slow but steady. The driver sat high up in his cab, with a perfect view of the inside of our car. Lorena saw him too. She smiled in that way I knew well, the one that appeared when she was about to do something she shouldn’t.

—Do you remember the bet? —I asked.

—Of course I remember it —she replied, biting her lip.

She slowly pulled her dress up, centimeter by centimeter, until a pair of white cotton panties came into view. She looked modest, almost innocent, but the hand she slid between her legs was anything but innocent. The truck drew level with us. The driver turned his head, saw her, and his face went from surprise to excitement in a second.

—He’s looking at you —I murmured, keeping my eyes on the road—. Are you going to let him enjoy it a little longer?

—Whatever you ask me to —she answered softly, already breathing faster.

—Show him your tits. Slowly. We’ve got miles of straight road ahead of us.

Lorena slipped one strap of her dress down and freed one breast. She caressed it for him, pinched her nipple between two fingers, and looked up toward the cab with the face of a good girl who wasn’t fooling anyone. The trucker honked twice, long blasts, and gave us a thumbs-up through the window. He was delighted.

I lowered my hand until I found hers between her thighs. She was drenched. She trembled with excitement with every meter we covered, fascinated by the idea of being watched by a stranger we would never see again.

After a while I stepped on the gas and left the truck behind. For the next few kilometers we talked about nothing else. We reconstructed every detail out loud, the man’s face, the horn blasts, and we kept getting more and more nervous, more turned on, more reckless.

***

Four hours on the road take their toll, and a coffee was starting to feel like a necessity. We stopped at the first bar we found by the roadside. It was one of those places that look as if no one has touched them in decades, with its faded sign and yellowed curtains. The typical roadside joint where everyone turns their head when you walk in and no one smiles.

We sat at the counter. We didn’t plan to stay long, just a quick coffee and then on. Lorena asked for the bathroom and the bartender, hardly lifting his eyes, pointed her toward the back and handed her a key tied to a piece of wood. She got up and went out through the side door.

Less than two minutes had passed when the front door opened again. I thought it was her, that she had forgotten something. It wasn’t. It was our trucker friend.

It all looked like something out of a movie: the dusty bar, the taciturn regulars, and now the broad-shouldered driver with the look of a man who took no shit, walking in as if the place belonged to him. He sat down beside me, nodded in greeting, and ordered a beer. He took a long drink, glanced at me sideways, and leaned in.

—I hope you know how to share —he whispered.

He set the bottle down on the counter, almost full, and went out through the same back door Lorena had used. I froze. I didn’t know exactly what he was up to, but something in his tone sent my pulse racing. I pulled out my phone and texted her.

—How much longer? This place gives me a bad feeling —I typed.

—Five minutes and we’re leaving, baby —she answered right away.

Those five minutes were going to feel eternal. To distract myself, I watched the clientele. The important man in town with his two hangers-on in a corner. A lonely old man fiddling with a coin on the table. A couple in their fifties who hadn’t opened their mouths since we arrived. Such a strange crowd that I preferred to get up and go look for Lorena myself.

—I’m heading out, I’ll wait for you in the car —I texted as I crossed the place.

—Better come here, to the bathrooms —she replied.

***

I headed to the back, intrigued. I thought the heat of the game on the road had left her wanting to keep going right there, with me. The women’s bathroom door was ajar. I peeked in.

She did want to keep the game going, yes. But she hadn’t waited for me.

Leaning against the sink, with her dress hitched up, Lorena was pinned by the trucker. He had one hand on her hip and the other in her hair, forcing her to lift her face as he slammed into her again and again. I stood frozen in the doorway, not knowing what to do or what to feel.

The man saw me. He held my gaze for a moment and winked at me, never slowing his rhythm. She wasn’t resisting. She moaned with every thrust, eyes half-closed, completely surrendered. He held her by the hair so she would look at herself in the dirty mirror in front of her.

—Look at yourself —he ordered in a rough voice—. Look at the face you have right now. Tell me what you are.

—Whatever you want —she gasped—. I’m whatever you want… don’t stop.

—Your guy is right there, watching us. Say something to him.

—Baby… —Lorena murmured, finding me in the reflection.

The scene left me paralyzed. Not out of jealousy, or anger, but from a mix of surprise and excitement I hadn’t expected to feel. She liked being treated like that, without ceremony, and maybe I had never been able to go that far. Her pleasure had always been the trigger for mine, and this time it was no different. I leaned against the wall and decided to stay and watch it all.

The trucker kept at it for a good while, setting a brutal pace, until suddenly he pulled out and turned her around. He gripped her by the shoulders and guided her down, putting her on her knees in front of him. Lorena obeyed without protesting, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I only smiled.

—All the way —he said—. You earned it.

She started slowly, with some difficulty at first. But after a few seconds she found the rhythm and gave herself over completely, while he held the back of her neck and set the pace he wanted. I couldn’t move. I could only watch, my heart pounding against my chest and a strange mix of disbelief and desire coursing through me.

Just a few minutes later, the man pressed Lorena’s head against him and let out a deep grunt of pleasure. When he was done, he pulled up his pants, picked up the cap he had left on the hand dryer, and headed for the exit unhurriedly. As he passed me he gave me a couple of slaps on the shoulder.

—Have a good trip —he said, and left, winking at me again.

I went over to Lorena, who was still on her knees, catching her breath. I helped her stand and straighten her dress. Her cheeks were flushed and she wore a satisfied smile she wasn’t trying to hide.

—Did you enjoy it? —I asked, stroking her face.

—Very much —she replied—. It was so intense. But what I liked most was having you there, watching me.

—Come on, fix yourself up —I said with a half smile—. We still have a long way to go. I’ll wait for you in the car. And this time, don’t dawdle.

***

Lorena took the wheel this time. We left the bar without looking back and got back on the highway with the windows down, letting the hot air carry away the tension still left in our bodies. We hardly spoke, but every time our eyes met, we both smiled like accomplices in a secret that belonged to us alone.

Half an hour later, in the distance, we made out the silhouette of a truck outlined against the horizon. I don’t know if it was the same one, and it didn’t matter. Lorena saw it in the distance and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, with that spark I already knew too well.

We still had a long way to go.