Lot Lizards

The first hooker, or lot lizard as they are affectionately known, that I saw while I was driving was during my over-the-road training period. There were three of us in the truck at the time and the trainer had dumped us at a run-down truck stop in Virginia Beach while he went home for a few days.

On Saturday morning we were sitting in the truck, bored out of our minds, when an attractive female in her early thirties walked onto the lot. Dressed in a short skirt, fishnet stockings and an off-the-shoulder blouse, she made the rounds, stopping at each driver who was outside his vehicle. Being Saturday morning, early, she didn’t appear to get any takers.

On one of my first solo runs, I stopped overnight at a truck stop in Texarkana, Arkansas off I-30. I hadn’t been parked for 5 minutes when a nice looking black young woman knocked on my driver-side door. “Hi. My name’s Bunny,” she said. “Looking for some company?” I declined, but every time I saw her that evening she was climbing into or out of someone’s truck.

While sitting in a truck stop in West Memphis, Arkansas, I saw two hookers trolling the lot. One was tall and skinny, the other shorter and rather hefty. Micro, micro mini-skirts and very high heels were the uniform of the day. In fact, I could see the skinny one’s ass as they walked through the parking lot.

In Oklahoma City, I had my CB radio turned on while I finished up my paperwork when the following conversation came over my radio.
“Any of you drivers looking for
some commercial company, bring
it back to ‘Hollywood’ on channel 17.”
What the hell – I’d flip to 17 and see what she was offering.
“Anybody make it to 17?”
“Yeah – this Hollywood?” another driver asked.
“It sure is, sugar – what you need?”
“How much for a blowjob?”
“Now sweetheart; you know I can’t tell
you that over the CB.”
“OK – then what can I get for $10?”
“A good look at my ass as I walk away.”
Everyone had a good laugh over that. I turned the radio off and went to sleep.

But the topper was at a very small truck stop in Delmar, Virginia on Highway 13 near the Maryland State Line. I had arrived at about 11 pm, hit the men’s room then went back to my truck and crashed. It had been a long day.

About 11:30 there was a loud “BANG-BANG-BANG” on the side of my truck.

“Go Away,” I yelled.
“BANG-BANG-BANG” again.

I slid out of the bunk, opened my curtains and looked out my window. Outside, smiling up at me, was a young woman. There was another of our company’s trucks parked next to mine, and she looked like she could have been the driver – she was dressed in
jeans and a sweater. I rolled down the window thinking she might need some help with her truck.

“Sleepin’ hard driver?”, she said

“I was,” I answered.

“Would you like some company?”

Given her appearance, the size of the truck stop and the area we were in, I was really surprised. I would have expected it in W. Memphis or any of a dozen other truck stops I’d been in. Plus, she was dressed like a regular person, not in the provocative type clothing favored by most of the truck stop hookers I’d seen.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I said, and started to roll up my window.

“Oh, come on now, driver,” she replied. “I’m not a cop – look!”
With that, she proved that she was not an undercover cop on a sting assignment. She pulled the sweater up to her chin, revealing a pert, young set of naked breasts. All of a
sudden I was face-to-face – or rather nose-to-nipple – with the bared chest of the person who had just woke me up.

“No, thanks, darlin’ – I’m too tired,” I stammered. Then she was off to the next truck, presumably to perform her little strip-tease one more time. I was too tired to see if she got any takers. I hit the bed again – alone.

Almost every truck stop has its lot lizards – some more brazen than others. The cops try to keep them out; the truck stop managers try to keep them out (if they’re not getting a cut of the action); but they’re always around. If you don’t mind going home with the gift that keeps on giving (an STD or worse) they could be an option. I guess I’m just too much of a chicken-shit.

Later,

obi