HOME | DD

Description
Graduation Day arrived on schedule. Her name was called: “Hunter, Emma”. She rose and took the stage. The Principal handed her a rolled up lump of paper, tied together with a piece of ribbon that matched her gown. She shook his hand. She walked down from the stage and back into the crowd; into the sea of students that were, according to this rolled up document, no longer students, and no longer children. She sighed and rested her head against Lorry’s chiselled shoulder.
After graduation Emma and a few of her friends went down to a local bar and had a few drinks. They got drunk and began dancing on tables, grabbing each other playfully and singing badly to the songs of artists they had worshipped as children. “WOOAH! To collage and hot girls!” Some idiot friend yelled across the bar his glass raised in toast. Emma responded by raising her own glass.
By three A.M she was passed out in the back seat of her boyfriend Lorry’s truck.
The truck pulled up in front of Lorry’s parent’s house. Lorry got out the truck. From the blackness of her drunken mind, Emma heard the truck door slam. She was aware that they had arrived at the house. The door by her head opened up and muscular arms pulled her gently from the backseat and carried her behind the house. Lorry’s room was in the pool house.
He laid her on his bed and stroked her hair. She could hear him mumbling something. He was drunk also, maybe more so, she thought. She could tell he wanted to have sex, she could feel him pressed against her. She would have rather slept but his constant presence; his overpowering “hunger”, forced her from her lethargic, dreamless state. She pulled herself into a sitting position, smiled and yanked off her blouse. A toothy smile widened across Lorry’s face. He was a big guy, but he had a puppy dog temperament, and features to fit.  They had sex. And at least one of them enjoyed it.
The next morning arrived on schedule. Emma pulled on her jeans and grabbed a raggedy shirt from her boyfriend’s closet. The keys to his trunk lay crumpled in the right pocket of his beige pants. After buttoning up her stolen shirt and grabbing a tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush, she took the keys, quietly shut the pool house door, and made her way to his truck. Lorry slept on.
Mr.McKenzi was outside. He was always out early, doing what needed to be done in the garden. He was married. His children came to see him every other winter... She started the engine. Four seconds passed in outward silence. Inwardly many things were passing through her mind, creating a turbulent storm of awakening feelings, suppressed desires, and hidden energy. The gears changed and the car growled. A bird took off from a nearby tree. Emma drove away.
Had it been the fucking god awful sex? The unwelcome arrival of her possible future? Was it overwhelming pressure of expectation, or of becoming like her parents; of settling down and possibly marrying Lorry, having his pups; sucking his dick whenever he asked, the repeating of the god awful sex?.. These thoughts made Emma shudder. Nothing she was doing, the stealing of his truck, the running away, made any sense. She had never seen this coming, but then again, she hadn’t been looking had she. Until today, and until now, Emma had just accepted her life because it was exactly as it “should be”; like everyone else’s, and this “buy ‘em in bulk”, “manufactured” lifestyle made things easier than swimming against the current. She was well liked, she was good looking, and she had a boyfriend, a part time job, a nice family, a diploma... She had been brought up like this, like them; but she wasn’t really like that, or like them. A smile rippled across the surface of her lips. She punched the radio with a well practised finger so that music blared at an ear splitting volume. She pushed her foot further down on the accelerator and the truck shot down the empty morning lane. The daisies on the side of the road became blurred. She drove for an hour pumped with adrenaline and excitement, not knowing where she was heading. She had been planning her getaway from the moment Lorry had passed out on top of her. Poor baby.
He would be heart-broken. He wouldn’t understand: fucking simpleton. And bless his soul; he had really loved his truck. But she had his truck. And his...
She braked suddenly, and the truck came to a crunch at a midsection in the road. A close up of her eyes would show absolute shock, then inner frustration, then open anger, then fucking rage. She slapped her fist down on the steering wheel and cussed loudly and inarticulately. Finally something of sense left her mouth, “FUCK FUCK FUCK! I forgot to take his fucking wallet. FUCK FUCK TRIPLE FUCKING FUCK!”
With no money to purchase more gas, Emma only made it as far as the adjoining state. She pulled up at a truck stop, pushed the door open angrily, and slammed it in loud frustration on exiting. She then proceeded into the seedy, resident diner. Her mood of exhilaration, which had momentarily returned even after her fury at forgetting the most crucial object of her survival, the cash, was quickly overpowered by fear and remorse over actions that now seemed both foolish and rash. She had no idea what to do. She figured she would have to hitch-hike. It was this thought alone that rebooted the sense of excitement, which fluttered like tiny metallic wings, inside her stomach.
All eyes focussed on her as she swung into the “Joint”, so named because that was what quite a few of the people were smoking.  A woman with greasy blonde hair was pouring coffee out of a similarly greasy metal coffee pot. She too looked up and ran her eyes critically over Emma’s attire. The unasked for attention only served to enhance the rush that Emma was feeling; to further excite the flapping wings in her abdomen. She took a seat by the window and waited, not knowing what it was she was meant to do next. The coffee woman swayed over. The slight movement of the coffee pot indicated to Emma that the woman was asking whether she wanted any coffee. Speech seemed a luxury Emma was not going to be afforded. At least she had been acknowledged. She shook her head. She had no money. The woman raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?” she asked in a blunt liquorice coated voice. Emma blinked. “I came here to hitch a ride.” She said, just as bluntly. The woman continued to stare, but a strange look had flickered dully to life at the centre of her pupils.  “Where are you from?” She asked, more conversationally this time.
“I drove up from ---“
“Why do you need a ride if you have a vehicle?” Liquorice asked cleverly.
“I ran out of gas”
“So buy some more.”
“I ran out of money too.”
Up came Liquorice’s eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll see if I can help. “ She said, after a slight pause. “Sit.” And with that she sauntered into the kitchen leaving Emma to wonder, but not to think.
Thoughts were unable to manifest themselves under such a circumstance. What was there to even think about? Somehow, though completely clueless to what she was doing, Emma was being lead gently by the hand, step by baby step, into the unknown.
The woman came back moments later with a bouncy red headed female.  They both slide into chairs opposite Emma.
“Hi, I’m Charlie,” The red head grinned charismatically, and stretched a hand across the table. Emma shook it. “Emma,” She said. She then looked at Liquorice, but no name came. Instead Liquorice pressed her lips together, condescendingly, into a thin smirk. “Where are you going?” She asked instead. The question made Emma pause, but only momentarily. “The City”.
The red head’s grin widened visibly. “Perfect,” she sang. “That’s exactly where I’m heading. We can go together!” The girl’s excitement made Emma’s heart swell with enthusiasm, whereas it seemed to tire Liquorice. “Yeah, nice idea; however there is the little problem of non-existent funds on both your parts.” Neither Emma’s nor Charlie’s smiles wavered at the revelation. In fact, Charlie’s eyes sparkled warmly at Emma, and her gaze shifted down to the top of Emma’s shirt where the buttons were not done up. “Charlie, focus” Liquorice snapped when she realised she was being ignored.  “I am focussed,” Charlie retorted playfully bringing her eyes back to Emma’s face and grinning.  Liquorice sighed and Emma blushed. “I’ve got an idea,” Emma said, pulling herself together. Her skin had begun to tingle beneath this red heads gaze, a feeling she couldn’t quite comprehend but took to be a good omen for their journey together. “Yes?” Liquorice prompted without the same enthusiasm. She seemed suspicious of Emma’s intelligence, and with good cause considering the latter’s self induced predicament. “We could sell my truck and hitch?” Emma suggested. Liquorice groaned, suspicions confirmed.  The red head smiled prettily and shared a look with Liquorice. “It’s a thought.” She said, interrupting what Emma could only suppose would be a verbal bashing from the coffee woman. “I’m just reluctant to let go of a truck. It’s a good start, you know?”
“But I won’t need it in the city,” Emma continued, verbalising her thoughts before she had actually thought them. She was desperate to redeem her idea in the eyes of the red head. “And gas is so pricey these days; a truck will just be more of a burden. It would be easier to sell it off around here and use the money for food or to compensate any drivers we hitch-hike with, you know...Besides.” She lowered her voice slightly, “It’s stolen.” At the last part both Red Head and Liquorice’s eyes grew wide. Numerous emotions played on the coffee woman’s face as she tried to picture such an occasion. Charlie seemed impressed by the notion. She turned to woman beside her, “Told you she wasn’t a dumbass prude, didn’t I?” She smiled at Emma.
“I never said that.” Liquorice countered, only half angry, and slightly embarrassed.
“Yes you did Georgie. In the back. You said, I think I’ve found you an escape, but she a bit strange, a bit slow, and she’s got one of them accents that piss me off.”
Emma blinked.
“So? Where was the words ‘dumbass prude’, huh?” Liquorice retorted, refusing to look Emma in the eyes now.
“Well, they’re a summation, aren’t they?”  Red Head said, “But don’t feel embarrassed Em, she thought I was a fucking worn out skank when I stumbled in here.”
“And I still do,” was the final response from Liquorice before some big armed, large bellied trucker started cussing at her; complaining about poor service.  “Oh for fuck sake.” Georgia muttered getting up.  “The pair of you work it the fuck out and tell me your plans. Lord knows neither of you have half a brain cell but you’re both better together than you are alone.”
After she had left, Charlie turned to Emma and said, “Okay, we’ll sell up. Me and George’ll talk to one of the truckers about a lift part of the way, after we’ll have to hitch as best we can; find cheap ass motels to stay in for the night and stuff. Okay?”
Emma nodded. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words to express the stirring inside her body, the change in how she was viewing her life and herself, or the sensations evoked by this mysterious pixie like girl sitting opposite her. Her hand twitched as the girl hopped up and danced her way back into the kitchen. Emma waited alone, tapping her shoe against the table leg.
They got a ride with the same big armed, pot bellied trucker who had been complaining about the “Joint’s” poor service. Georgia had arranged the whole thing. Georgia had also managed to sell the truck at a very reasonable price. She then proceeded to take a little of the money for herself, as a compensation for her time. Neither Emma, nor Red head minded. Charlie was too good natured, and Emma was on a different planet. Everything was happening so quickly, and so easily. It was like she was walking down the path fate had paved for her; yet at the same time carving out her own destiny. As such, she was in quiet repose most of the way to the next town. Red head sat in the passenger seat and chatted with the trucker the whole way. The trucker didn’t mind. Charlie was a very attractive girl, and her conversational skills and amiable presence eventually coerced the balding man to by them both milkshakes at the nearest McDonalds, which was in the town.
All three of them hopped out of the truck, and entered the food place. The trucker went straight to the counter to order the drinks, whilst Red head and Emma went to find seats. As soon as they sat, Red head pulled Emma close. “Okay, here’s the plan. We drink. We go to the bathroom, and we leg it.”

Description
Graduation Day arrived on schedule. Her name was called: “Hunter, Emma”. She rose and took the stage. The Principal handed her a rolled up lump of paper, tied together with a piece of ribbon that matched her gown. She shook his hand. She walked down from the stage and back into the crowd; into the sea of students that were, according to this rolled up document, no longer students, and no longer children. She sighed and rested her head against Lorry’s chiselled shoulder.
After graduation Emma and a few of her friends went down to a local bar and had a few drinks. They got drunk and began dancing on tables, grabbing each other playfully and singing badly to the songs of artists they had worshipped as children. “WOOAH! To collage and hot girls!” Some idiot friend yelled across the bar his glass raised in toast. Emma responded by raising her own glass.
By three A.M she was passed out in the back seat of her boyfriend Lorry’s truck.
The truck pulled up in front of Lorry’s parent’s house. Lorry got out the truck. From the blackness of her drunken mind, Emma heard the truck door slam. She was aware that they had arrived at the house. The door by her head opened up and muscular arms pulled her gently from the backseat and carried her behind the house. Lorry’s room was in the pool house.
He laid her on his bed and stroked her hair. She could hear him mumbling something. He was drunk also, maybe more so, she thought. She could tell he wanted to have sex, she could feel him pressed against her. She would have rather slept but his constant presence; his overpowering “hunger”, forced her from her lethargic, dreamless state. She pulled herself into a sitting position, smiled and yanked off her blouse. A toothy smile widened across Lorry’s face. He was a big guy, but he had a puppy dog temperament, and features to fit.  They had sex. And at least one of them enjoyed it.
The next morning arrived on schedule. Emma pulled on her jeans and grabbed a raggedy shirt from her boyfriend’s closet. The keys to his trunk lay crumpled in the right pocket of his beige pants. After buttoning up her stolen shirt and grabbing a tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush, she took the keys, quietly shut the pool house door, and made her way to his truck. Lorry slept on.
Mr.McKenzi was outside. He was always out early, doing what needed to be done in the garden. He was married. His children came to see him every other winter... She started the engine. Four seconds passed in outward silence. Inwardly many things were passing through her mind, creating a turbulent storm of awakening feelings, suppressed desires, and hidden energy. The gears changed and the car growled. A bird took off from a nearby tree. Emma drove away.
Had it been the fucking god awful sex? The unwelcome arrival of her possible future? Was it overwhelming pressure of expectation, or of becoming like her parents; of settling down and possibly marrying Lorry, having his pups; sucking his dick whenever he asked, the repeating of the god awful sex?.. These thoughts made Emma shudder. Nothing she was doing, the stealing of his truck, the running away, made any sense. She had never seen this coming, but then again, she hadn’t been looking had she. Until today, and until now, Emma had just accepted her life because it was exactly as it “should be”; like everyone else’s, and this “buy ‘em in bulk”, “manufactured” lifestyle made things easier than swimming against the current. She was well liked, she was good looking, and she had a boyfriend, a part time job, a nice family, a diploma... She had been brought up like this, like them; but she wasn’t really like that, or like them. A smile rippled across the surface of her lips. She punched the radio with a well practised finger so that music blared at an ear splitting volume. She pushed her foot further down on the accelerator and the truck shot down the empty morning lane. The daisies on the side of the road became blurred. She drove for an hour pumped with adrenaline and excitement, not knowing where she was heading. She had been planning her getaway from the moment Lorry had passed out on top of her. Poor baby.
He would be heart-broken. He wouldn’t understand: fucking simpleton. And bless his soul; he had really loved his truck. But she had his truck. And his...
She braked suddenly, and the truck came to a crunch at a midsection in the road. A close up of her eyes would show absolute shock, then inner frustration, then open anger, then fucking rage. She slapped her fist down on the steering wheel and cussed loudly and inarticulately. Finally something of sense left her mouth, “FUCK FUCK FUCK! I forgot to take his fucking wallet. FUCK FUCK TRIPLE FUCKING FUCK!”
With no money to purchase more gas, Emma only made it as far as the adjoining state. She pulled up at a truck stop, pushed the door open angrily, and slammed it in loud frustration on exiting. She then proceeded into the seedy, resident diner. Her mood of exhilaration, which had momentarily returned even after her fury at forgetting the most crucial object of her survival, the cash, was quickly overpowered by fear and remorse over actions that now seemed both foolish and rash. She had no idea what to do. She figured she would have to hitch-hike. It was this thought alone that rebooted the sense of excitement, which fluttered like tiny metallic wings, inside her stomach.
All eyes focussed on her as she swung into the “Joint”, so named because that was what quite a few of the people were smoking.  A woman with greasy blonde hair was pouring coffee out of a similarly greasy metal coffee pot. She too looked up and ran her eyes critically over Emma’s attire. The unasked for attention only served to enhance the rush that Emma was feeling; to further excite the flapping wings in her abdomen. She took a seat by the window and waited, not knowing what it was she was meant to do next. The coffee woman swayed over. The slight movement of the coffee pot indicated to Emma that the woman was asking whether she wanted any coffee. Speech seemed a luxury Emma was not going to be afforded. At least she had been acknowledged. She shook her head. She had no money. The woman raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?” she asked in a blunt liquorice coated voice. Emma blinked. “I came here to hitch a ride.” She said, just as bluntly. The woman continued to stare, but a strange look had flickered dully to life at the centre of her pupils.  “Where are you from?” She asked, more conversationally this time.
“I drove up from ---“
“Why do you need a ride if you have a vehicle?” Liquorice asked cleverly.
“I ran out of gas”
“So buy some more.”
“I ran out of money too.”
Up came Liquorice’s eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll see if I can help. “ She said, after a slight pause. “Sit.” And with that she sauntered into the kitchen leaving Emma to wonder, but not to think.
Thoughts were unable to manifest themselves under such a circumstance. What was there to even think about? Somehow, though completely clueless to what she was doing, Emma was being lead gently by the hand, step by baby step, into the unknown.
The woman came back moments later with a bouncy red headed female.  They both slide into chairs opposite Emma.
“Hi, I’m Charlie,” The red head grinned charismatically, and stretched a hand across the table. Emma shook it. “Emma,” She said. She then looked at Liquorice, but no name came. Instead Liquorice pressed her lips together, condescendingly, into a thin smirk. “Where are you going?” She asked instead. The question made Emma pause, but only momentarily. “The City”.
The red head’s grin widened visibly. “Perfect,” she sang. “That’s exactly where I’m heading. We can go together!” The girl’s excitement made Emma’s heart swell with enthusiasm, whereas it seemed to tire Liquorice. “Yeah, nice idea; however there is the little problem of non-existent funds on both your parts.” Neither Emma’s nor Charlie’s smiles wavered at the revelation. In fact, Charlie’s eyes sparkled warmly at Emma, and her gaze shifted down to the top of Emma’s shirt where the buttons were not done up. “Charlie, focus” Liquorice snapped when she realised she was being ignored.  “I am focussed,” Charlie retorted playfully bringing her eyes back to Emma’s face and grinning.  Liquorice sighed and Emma blushed. “I’ve got an idea,” Emma said, pulling herself together. Her skin had begun to tingle beneath this red heads gaze, a feeling she couldn’t quite comprehend but took to be a good omen for their journey together. “Yes?” Liquorice prompted without the same enthusiasm. She seemed suspicious of Emma’s intelligence, and with good cause considering the latter’s self induced predicament. “We could sell my truck and hitch?” Emma suggested. Liquorice groaned, suspicions confirmed.  The red head smiled prettily and shared a look with Liquorice. “It’s a thought.” She said, interrupting what Emma could only suppose would be a verbal bashing from the coffee woman. “I’m just reluctant to let go of a truck. It’s a good start, you know?”
“But I won’t need it in the city,” Emma continued, verbalising her thoughts before she had actually thought them. She was desperate to redeem her idea in the eyes of the red head. “And gas is so pricey these days; a truck will just be more of a burden. It would be easier to sell it off around here and use the money for food or to compensate any drivers we hitch-hike with, you know...Besides.” She lowered her voice slightly, “It’s stolen.” At the last part both Red Head and Liquorice’s eyes grew wide. Numerous emotions played on the coffee woman’s face as she tried to picture such an occasion. Charlie seemed impressed by the notion. She turned to woman beside her, “Told you she wasn’t a dumbass prude, didn’t I?” She smiled at Emma.
“I never said that.” Liquorice countered, only half angry, and slightly embarrassed.
“Yes you did Georgie. In the back. You said, I think I’ve found you an escape, but she a bit strange, a bit slow, and she’s got one of them accents that piss me off.”
Emma blinked.
“So? Where was the words ‘dumbass prude’, huh?” Liquorice retorted, refusing to look Emma in the eyes now.
“Well, they’re a summation, aren’t they?”  Red Head said, “But don’t feel embarrassed Em, she thought I was a fucking worn out skank when I stumbled in here.”
“And I still do,” was the final response from Liquorice before some big armed, large bellied trucker started cussing at her; complaining about poor service.  “Oh for fuck sake.” Georgia muttered getting up.  “The pair of you work it the fuck out and tell me your plans. Lord knows neither of you have half a brain cell but you’re both better together than you are alone.”
After she had left, Charlie turned to Emma and said, “Okay, we’ll sell up. Me and George’ll talk to one of the truckers about a lift part of the way, after we’ll have to hitch as best we can; find cheap ass motels to stay in for the night and stuff. Okay?”
Emma nodded. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words to express the stirring inside her body, the change in how she was viewing her life and herself, or the sensations evoked by this mysterious pixie like girl sitting opposite her. Her hand twitched as the girl hopped up and danced her way back into the kitchen. Emma waited alone, tapping her shoe against the table leg.
They got a ride with the same big armed, pot bellied trucker who had been complaining about the “Joint’s” poor service. Georgia had arranged the whole thing. Georgia had also managed to sell the truck at a very reasonable price. She then proceeded to take a little of the money for herself, as a compensation for her time. Neither Emma, nor Red head minded. Charlie was too good natured, and Emma was on a different planet. Everything was happening so quickly, and so easily. It was like she was walking down the path fate had paved for her; yet at the same time carving out her own destiny. As such, she was in quiet repose most of the way to the next town. Red head sat in the passenger seat and chatted with the trucker the whole way. The trucker didn’t mind. Charlie was a very attractive girl, and her conversational skills and amiable presence eventually coerced the balding man to by them both milkshakes at the nearest McDonalds, which was in the town.
All three of them hopped out of the truck, and entered the food place. The trucker went straight to the counter to order the drinks, whilst Red head and Emma went to find seats. As soon as they sat, Red head pulled Emma close. “Okay, here’s the plan. We drink. We go to the bathroom, and we leg it.”