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help some punters with their steps, and to get another ego-boost from a couple of hunks who she assisted with some aerobic positions.
    She couldn’t wait to get home to share the news. Should she text Bob? No she would spoil him and then share the news. The rest of the day was a blur. What a dream! What an opportunity! This was more amazing to her than any dream.

2.5 Tom

    The radio blared in the Service restaurant. Some indie crap Tom thought. The truck had been sluggish and he was about an hour behind schedule, but the fucking rules meant he had to take a break before he got to Preston and that meant an unavoidable turn off at Abington. On the road days on end he was used to eating in these places, snoozing in the cab and showering in the ‘pay as you go’ facilities. It wasn’t much of a life, but it did the job. He knew the places he liked and the services he didn’t and he worked his hours to fit in with Premier Inns and familiar local village stops, where the talent was better than the hairy arsed truckers he found surrounding him here.

    The olive green paint followed the wall around over the canteen area. To the right there was a paper shop. No interest. Listening to the radio all day you don’t need to read about it, it’s repeated on the hour every hour.

    Driving had always been a passion. Driving HGVs was more a status thing than anything and, of course, it gave him the cash to allow him to do what he loved: racing cars and riding girls. One day he heard through a mate that there was a real ride of a woman up in Dunfermline and he went to meet her – only to find out it was Aidrian's wife Monica. More than shocked he gave her the money and rode her. When he was done he picked up the money and walked out. She didn’t argue. The fact was she obviously felt guilty. So she should, but that wasn’t enough for Tom. He arranged to meet her again, and this time told her that this would continue until he decided it would stop. What could she do but agree? But he was never there and felt it was like unspent cash having her at his beck and call, but then being unable to use her as he would. She even seemed unable to see him when he wanted her which led him to the current situation. When she didn’t see him she had to pay him what she had charged him that first time, and it wasn’t cheap. She must be at it regular to be able to afford it, and he wouldn’t tell Aids – I mean it would look bad on her. So after a while he stopped pestering her and waited for the cash, and it continued to arrive. They didn’t even talk much now, but he had plenty cash to play with when he was away, so it was a means to an end.

    The bacon butty cost £4.25, and wouldn’t have been worth two pound. Boredom. The waitress came by wearing a blue checked shirt and short skirt. What the hell. He got up from the unclean orange plastic table and followed the girl to the kitchen area.
    ‘Excuse me’ the girl turned. Pretty.
    ‘Do you want to earn 30 quid?’ The girl looked concerned.
    ‘Listen, I just think you look like a great girl and I was looking for some company’
    He didn’t care if she wanted to or not. He would have her and legitimately too.
    ‘Nah, I don’t think so’, she turned away.
    ‘Sorry, darling. I didn’t want to upset you.’
    ‘OK’, she walked away from him.
    ‘200 quid. It’s my final offer.’ It must have sounded like desperation, but he knew she would have a price with her short skirt and working for pennies in a dump like this.
    She paused.
    ‘OK, I’ll meet you in the car park’.

    He would have to show her the money of course, so he made a point of taking out a sum of cash from the autoteller before placing it in his wallet. He glanced towards her as she cleaned another table and walked out towards the front of the building. He would have put a cigarette in his mouth just to prove how smooth he was, but it would spoil the few moments of pleasure he was about to enjoy with young nameless