1. 45 AM, on a Wednesday morning. Not my favourite time to finish work but, the new server was up and running and I didn’t have to be back in until 2 PM, this afternoon.
I drove at a leisurely pace, well aware of the many speed cameras along this stretch of the A12, my only fellow road users were Dutch and Polish Lorries on their way to Harwich or Felixstowe. I was singing along to an old Beatles song on the radio, when I saw her walking alongside the road.
She looked beautiful. Mid 20’s, at a guess. She had a slim waif like body and wearing an old fashioned hippy afghan coat. Her face looked unearthly and ethereal; a consequence of the cool night air and the yellow sodium street lights. I pulled over beside her and opened the window. “Hi. Are you OK? Do you want a lift somewhere?” She smiled and wordlessly got into my car.
In the overhead light I could see she had a lovely shock of auburn hair framing a heart-shaped face and delicate Elvin features. “You know, it’s very late. It’s not safe to hitch, especially here. We must be half a mile from the nearest house” Her hand reached out and rested on mine.
I put the car in gear and started to move off “So, where are you headed? I turn off in a few miles. I go up the A133 toward Clacton. I could take you home if it’s not too far out of the way” No answer, the car was silent except for the sound of the purring engine “Shall I turn the radio up?” She shook her head, and then she indicated the slip road for the A120 and spoke for the first time “Here”
You want me to turn off here? Ok, how far are we going? Coggeshall? Braintree? You’re not heading for Stanstead, are you?” “No. Turn here”
I followed the road for 3 more miles in silence, until we reached a lay-by, screened by trees from the main road, just past Coggeshall. “Here. Turn in” she said
We pulled in to an utterly dark lay-by. No streetlights made it through the trees. When I turned off the engine there was only the light from the muted radio, and the moon. Her hand grabbed my leg and ran up my thigh “Emm; you don’t need to do this. I didn’t pick you up for sex. I just thought you needed……………. .
I started to gently kiss and lick her nipples and she started to gasp and moan. She seemed desperate for sex, a ravenous nymph. She pulled her nipple away from my mouth and her hands fumbled at my belt buckle and trousers. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me now” “Hold on a minute” I said, “hold on. STOP” Her hand stopped trying to pull my trousers down. A few seconds passed as I gathered my confused thoughts.
“I could take you home afterwards or you could stay the night” I pleaded “No, it has to be here. Now. I feel alive here”. I glanced around at the lay-by. On one side was a farmer’s field. On the other side was the Coggeshall road. Not my idea of a romantic spot.
I moistened my middle finger in her pussy and ran it over the hardened bud of her clitoris. She moaned and lifted one leg, placing her foot on the dashboard opening her labia wider still. My tongue traced a path down here body, kissing her neck, lingering on the erect bud of one nipple.
“You are gorgeous, utterly utterly gorgeous. I want to see you again. This cant end here” I moved to allow her some room. I reached down to retrieve my trousers. At some point I had lost my mobile phone. I looked under the driver’s seat and soon found it. Coming up, I said “Look, I don’t even know your…. ” She had gone I had not even heard the car door I drove along the road… a mile left. I turned around and drove a mile in the other direction and stopped to think. She must have walked into Coggeshall, or gone across the field. Dejectedly, I drove home.
It was three months before I saw her again. I was browsing Yahoo News, on the internet, and recognised her beautiful Elvin face and the copper coloured hair, immediately. She was on yahoo News, with the headline: ‘Body found in Essex field’ ‘The body of a 26 year old girl has been found in a shallow gave, in a farmers field, 42 years after she was first reported missing. The girl has been identified as Sarah-Ann Carter, who disappeared after attending the Isle of Wight festival in 1969. The Discovery has rocked the community in the sleepy village of Coggeshall, Essex…. .
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