The Peterbilt roared along down the freeway, owning it like no other vehicle on the road could. Porsha sat stock still against the passenger side windowsill. If that state trooper had paid a slight bit more attention to the news that morning, he would have taken a closer look at the wolf girl perched precariously in the passenger seat of the black Peterbilt and it would all be over. She’d be riding in the backseat of a speeding police cruiser, lights and siren blaring, back to her father’s grip once more. 

It turns out, the officer was just making rounds through the truck stop parking lot and saw Rusty’s tire thumper laying on the ground in the parking spot the tanker had just vacated and wished to return it to him. Apparently, the officer and Rusty had known each other for quite some time and were on cordial speaking terms. Leroy, was the man’s name. Porsha caught that much, anyway but was too scared to look him in the eye. The officer made no comment about Porsha being there so she assumed she was in the clear, for now. 

This didn’t soothe Porsha, however. She casually flipped through her phone during the exchange between Rusty and the officer and saw headlines popping up all over social media inquiring about her whereabouts. What’s worse, her Woofstagram account had been bombarded with comments, messages and the whole works by thousands of followers. The world seemed to think she had dropped off the map entirely. 

Porsha failed to notice the progression of time going by. In what seemed like a slipstream of speed, the day had progressed and nearly ceased by the time she came to her senses and realized the sun beginning to set and the twinkling lights of a large mass of urban blocks looming ahead of the truck’s long hood. She realized at that moment her bladder was near the brink of betrayal. 

Clapping a hand to her stomach and exhaling deeply, she turned to her chauffeur. “Mistah Rusty? This girl really needs to tinkle, can we stop somewhere soon, please?”

“Can you hold it a bit longer? Hazmat rules, we’re on a dedicated route now through the city to the delivery terminal. Short of a dire emergency, this rig has to keep rolling no matter what. Plus, Leroy’s interruption put us behind schedule by nearly an hour. Why didn’t you ask me earlier? There were plenty of stops back up the road a piece before I got locked on the dedicated route.” Rusty replied, calmly. However, Porsha noticed a twinge of irritation in his voice and his grip tightening on the gearshift a bit. 

“S-sorry…” Porsha moaned, dropping her ears. “It’s just, I was like, totally daydreaming and didn’t realize what was going on around me!” 

Rusty turned his head a bit and eyed her in his peripheral. “I see,” he nodded. 

“Well, if it’s that bad and you can’t wait. There’s a bucket under the sleeper mattress, just lift up the bed. The bunk frame hitches when raised all the way. Pull the curtain, squat and do what ya need to do. Believe me I’m not going to try and peek in on you, that’s not my style. And don’t worry, the thing is clean and has a toilet seat affixed to it. Should be some buttwipe there somewhere, too. Comes in handy when a guy’s out in the middle of nowhere miles from the nearest stop. I’m real sorry, dear, but if I stop now it could cost me $10,000. Seriously though, we should be arriving at the terminal in about a half hour is all, barring obstructions in traffic, that is.”

“I think I can hold it that long, sir.” Porsha resigned, sitting back in the seat again and trying to take her mind off anything but the urge to relieve herself.

The Peterbilt rolled onward, and before long the urban sprawl enveloped the truck. Lights flashed by in a blur of color, cars weaved in and out of the lanes, their taillights a slipstream of red flare through the dusk. Porsha glanced over at the speedometer, it was locked on 55mph. She exhaled deeply and returned her gaze to the outside world, crossing her legs absentmindedly and clasping her hands together tightly between her thighs. For some reason, the only image she could conjure in her head was that of a large waterfall, gallons of water spilling over the edge and crashing onto the jagged rocks below. 

Porsha bit her lip and closed her eyes, her body starting to ache and twitch as the urgency to go became overwhelming. 

“Nearly there, kid. Just a few more blocks here. I know you’re desperate. Consider yourself lucky, had we rolled in during rush hour, this drive would have taken an additional two to three hours! That bucket may have been your only salvation, then. Been there before myself, but I can just go in an old bottle without having to stop moving. Not the most flattering thing, but there it is. Life of a hazmat hauler, I reckon! Heh.” Rusty explained, twisting the big steering wheel and following a well lit ramp towards a large sprawl of various colored lights.

Porsha realized exactly where they were, the many different colors of blue, green, red and the telltale strobe light mounted high on a tower twisting around like a homing beacon. 
“This is like, an airport! What are we doing here, Mistah Rusty?” She inquired. 

The man chuckled and jabbed his thumb behind his shoulder. “Aviation fuel is what I haul, silly! And please, call me Rusty, no need for ‘mister’ or any of that kind of formality, it’s starting to get awkward being addressed so proper, nomesayin’?” 

Porsha nodded, “right, sorry it’s totally a bad habit of mine!” She giggled, grinning sheepishly back at him. Rusty merely shook his head, but Porsha did notice a small smirk on his lips in the shadows still. 

Thankfully, Porsha finally was able to take her mind off her bladder as the truck rolled to a halt near a gated guard shack. A bespectacled, scrawny young giraffe sat in the small fluorescent lit building, reading some kind of comic book looking thing. Moths and other nighttime insects fluttered and scuttled around the transparent glass. Rusty rolled his window down, flashing a card affixed to a lanyard. 

“Fuel delivery for nine AM tomorrow morning?” Came the giraffe’s bored voice through the intercom.

Rusty nodded, “Yup, same drop as every other time, Reginald!” 

To Porsha’s utter complete shock, Rusty flashed the middle finger at the giraffe called Reginald. Who, in turn, grinned and did some kind of silly jig move with his hooved hands before pressing down on the big red button to open the gate.

“Still as much of a cranky bastard as last time, aren’t ya, Rust?” Reginald chortled through the intercom again, as the Peterbilt started to creep forward.

“Always! You know me!” Rusty pepped up, before flashing a more cordial wave to the giraffe as the truck gathered momentum and passed through the open gate. 

“What on earth was that about?” Porsha asked, stunned. 

Rusty laughed. “Just business! Gotta have a sense of humor and flair in this line of work or it gets awful dull! I’ve known Reg for years, great guy. He’s been offered several promotions over the years but he’s in love with that damn shack I’m convinced. Got a bit of a lazy streak in him, I reckon, but his mind is rock solid. If he really wanted to, I believe he could be a flight controller up in the big tower making the big bucks but no matter how much I banter with him about it he seems unmotivated to try for the job. Ah well, his life, his choice.”

Porsha nodded. “I see. I’ve like, never seen guys act in such a way towards one another is all, kinda funny if yah ask me!” 

“Well, if you ride with me long enough, you’ll see a lot more of that kind of thing! We’re a pretty rough and tumble group out here. Gotta be a tad bit cynical and a whole lot of easy going, never get your feelings riled up type of person in this trade. You learn to love it or hate it, I just so happen to love it!” Rusty explained lightly, a smile and touch of laughter in his voice, his eyes twinkling again. 

Porsha grinned, and this time felt a different sensation in her guts, one that had nothing to do with going potty. A sort of fluttery, butterfly type sensation, if you will. 

Having lost track of where they were, Porsha tried to return her attention to the goings on outside as the truck meandered through different areas of the airport, a few signs even posted stating “fuel delivery” route complete with arrows. 

“Aha!” Came Rusty’s voice as he once again twisted the steering wheel far to the right and pointed the truck straightforward before shifting into reverse. 

A loud backup alarm sounded, startling Porsha a bit. Looking around, she noticed they were in yet another parking area that was well lit and the truck was backing into a vacant space rapidly. Porsha was pleased to find that there were no other trucks here.

The Peterbilt came to a smooth halt and Rusty pulled the yellow button again, the loud hiss of escaping air sounded. Porsha looked around the place, obviously there was no convenience store to be seen. 

“Um, where’s the girl’s room?” She asked, biting her lower lip, turning to Rusty.

“Oh, that, right. It’s uh, over there to the left. More of a glorified outhouse but it’s got clean facilities, running water and the works.” Rusty explained, pointing to a squat cinderblock building adjacent his window. 

Porsha, relieved to now see the illuminated signs indicating the men’s and women’s restrooms on either side of the block structure. 

“Ohhh, perfect! Gotta go get this dealt with, like now!” Porsha squeaked, fumbling for the door handle and clambering out. 

Wasting no time, Porsha trotted towards the building and wrenched the door open and ducked into the first stall available. Shirking down her sweats and sitting down and letting it all loose. The sensation was euphoric as her relief finally came. A soft moan escaped her lips, sometimes a good pee after being forced to hold it in so long was nearly orgasmic. Something she hadn’t dealt with in a very long time having had ample access to restrooms most of her life. 

Finishing up and wiping, Porsha pulled her sweats back up and left the stall. The automatic flusher taking care of the deposit for her. She strolled up to the sink and washed her hands, eyeing herself in the mirror. She was a right mess again, and her fluffy cheek and neck fur was rather ruffled from having leaned against the sill of the truck all day, zoning out. 

Pulling out her makeup flask, Porsha reapplied her eyeliner, lash shadow and did her best to straighten up her fluff with her fingers. Sans brush, this was less than ideal but would have to do. She squirted a few puffs of perfume around her neck and stood back to admire herself, striking a pose with her hands on her hips. Damn, she looked good! Even without her proper vanity of makeup supplies there was no denying Porsha Crystal was still sexy as ever! 

“Get it, gurl!” Porsha said cheekily to her reflection, pursing her lips and pointing to herself, winking. 

Slipping back outside, Porsha inhaled a strong whiff of something cooking, mixed in with the unmistakeable scent of cigarette smoke. Some yards away from the truck and trailer, Porsha spotted Rusty standing at a makeshift picnic table where a small gas cookstove sat atop. Meat clearly simmering and grease crackling. Not only that, but there was a menagerie of goodies laid out on the table. Two Dr. Peppers, a bag of barbecue chips, a tub of what looked like potato or macaroni salad, plus all the condiments and hot dog buns! Porsha’s stomach, understandably, did an excited somersault and started to growl.

“Hungry?” Rusty inquired, glancing up at Porsha as she approached. Rolling a fat, juicy brat with a pair of tongs on the burner. A genial smile on his face, despite the lit cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m like, totally famished!” Porsha blurted, rubbing her stomach, eying the brats and feeling her mouth begin to salivate. 

“You’ll love these, then! Beer Baron sausages, a local favorite back home. Big, fat, juicy and perfectly seasoned. Also got other entrées as well to go with, as I’m sure you noticed.” 

Rusty gestured at a couple folding lawn chairs at each end of the table, a detail Porsha failed to notice until that moment. 

“These’ll be ready in about ten minutes, help yourself to chips and mac salad in the meantime, if you like.” 

Porsha sat down in one of the folding chairs, and a thought occurred to her at the sight of two of them. 

“Sir.. I mean, Rusty. Um, like why do you already have two chairs if you travel alone? Are you, in a relationship or something?” 

Rusty stirred a bit, the cherry of the cigarette glowed red hot as he pulled a long drag off it. Still not taking his attention away from the task of cooking. After turning both brats over again, he used his free hand to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and snuff it out on the ground at his feet. 

“Married once, a long time ago. It’s not a subject I’m willing to discuss, rather touchy. Put it this way, we had a good thing going, and it all went horribly wrong in the worst way. Years ago, and it’s all water under the bridge now.” He grumbled, gruffly. Porsha’s keen sense of hearing picked up a note of pain in his voice and it made her ears droop a little. 

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean, like…” 

“Curiosity is not a sin, Porsha.” Rusty assured, calmly.

“Figured if you rode around with me long enough you’d have questions. I’m happily willing to answer anything you ask, but that. Not only is it tragic, but the tale itself contains secrets about my past, her past and everything in between that I’ll take to my grave. You’d be hard pressed to believe half of what it is, anyway. Surely, some of it would frighten you beyond measure, as well…”

Rusty stopped briefly, and dished out the brats on buns and placed them on plates, before slowly walking up and setting one in front of Porsha and the other for himself. He then glanced up at her with a slightly severe look in his expression. 

“I’ve seen things, you can never imagine. Done things men and mammal alike only ever dream about.” Rusty finished, before taking his seat and dolling out condiments on his brat, then passing the bottles of ketchup, mayo and mustard to Porsha.  

“Hell, I forgot my manners again. Should have let you have these first, forgive me.”

“It’s okay, I understand!” Porsha chirped, her stomach now behaving like a carnival ride due to the aromas of cooked meat wafting up her nostrils.

Wasting no time, Porsha did up her condiments and dished herself up some mac salad, and a handful of chips and finally, cracking her Dr. Pepper open. Picking up the bratwurst and looking it over, slightly charred, and still sizzling. The thing was huge, thicker than her forearms and quite hefty. In her mind, she imagined it would take roughly five regular ballpark style franks put together to compete with this. 

Porsha took a bite. Rusty wasn’t lying about the flavor of these things, and what she was experiencing was something herself and friends referred to as a ‘mouthgasm’ in gigglish, girly ways whenever they’d tasted something extraordinarily good. 

“Mmmm,” Porsha moaned quietly. “These are like, really good!”

Stuffing more of the brat into her mouth and biting off a bigger piece. Porsha couldn’t remember having something so savory and juicy to eat in a long time. She was typically fond of sweet treats like slushee’s, expensive dishes of exotic fish, meat, fancy veggies, and all containing small portions, after all. The stuff she was used to eating was like, snack sized, in comparison. A lot of money for half a belly full, at most. 

“Not bad at all, eh? That’s good, cuz I got a lot more packed away if you’re still hungry after that!” Rusty said, smiling at her while sipping his drink. 

Some minutes later. Porsha sat back in a state of post-feast euphoria. She was so full! One hand rested on her stomach, and she thought for sure it was distended a bit. Even pulling up the hem of her shirt to take a look. Yep! There was a bit of a bump there, no doubt! 

Exhaling happily, Porsha turned her head to watch as Rusty cleaned up the cooking utensils and the little gas stove. He was smoking again and had his back turned as he worked. Pulling out her phone, Porsha unlocked it and opened up Woofstagram and started scrolling. She stopped on a story from Linda LeBon, the gabby, gossipy horse woman who told the ins and outs of what was going on with Redshore’s upper class individuals and celebrities. Porsha clicked on it to see what the story was and instantly regretted it.

“Annndddd the hottest story today, Porsha Crystal, the princess of Redshore City, daughter of Mr. Redshore City himself, Jimmy Crystal is still missing after two days. No clues on the whereabouts of this beauty fashion icon but word has it…”

It was too late, Linda’s spiel had came out so loud and fast, it seemed as if it were magnified around the whole area. Despite Porsha’s frantic efforts to silence the phone. She winced as she heard what sounded like the grilling tongs clatter to the ground somewhere a few feet away. 

Porsha looked up. In the span of a few seconds, she failed to notice that Rusty was now standing above her, looking down with a grim expression on his face. 

“I believe you owe me an explanation, Porsha Crystal.” He said tensely, but quite calmly too. “Carrying a hitchhiker is one thing, but a wanted fugitive is an entirely different story! Why didn’t I see it before?! I’ve seen spiels about you on the news previously, should have instantly recognized you. How could I be so vain?” 

“It’s, it’s, not like, oh my gawd…” Porsha stammered, struggling with what to say. She tried looking up to meet his gaze, but Rusty’s eyes were no longer benign and kind, rather an icy cold blue look pierced down on her from above. Dropping her head again, Porsha covered her eyes, trying not to start sobbing.

A chair scratched the surface of the concrete, and a hand cupped the underside of Porsha’s chin gently to lift her head back up. Rusty was now sitting directly across from her, his face mere inches away from hers.

“Listen to me carefully, Porsha. I need you to tell me everything and I need you to tell it now. No holds barred, everything. Don’t try to lie to me or modify the story in your favor. Facts, details, everything. I want it all.” 

Tears welled up in Porsha’s eyes, but somehow the soft grip of Rusty’s hand on her chin helped soothe her and she began to talk. She told him everything, the theater fiasco, her father losing his head and trying to murder the koala and how he degraded and shouted at her as well. 
When she was done, Porsha lost herself and started to cry, fearing the worst, fearing that she was about to be loaded back up in the semi and hauled off to the nearest police station. Fearing the rage and fury that awaited her return to her father’s mansion. 

“Well, that’s a whole can of worms I never expected to be opened on me… But, alas, I’m not going to turn you in. I should, really. Intellectual thinking tells me it would serve me better in the long run to call up airport security and have them cart you off to the Salt Lake City police station. However, that kind of thing isn’t my style. Please for the love of God, shut off the water works, will ya? The whole damn city probably knows where you’re at now. I’m not about to start yelling at and berating you for being upset, so cope in silence if at all possible.”

Porsha looked up again, trembling and wiping her eyes. Knowing for sure mascara was running down her cheeks and feeling miserable. Rusty still sat there, an expression of shock and surprise all over his features.
 
Without thinking, without considering how he might react, Porsha flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest in a tight embrace. 

“Whoa, what’re you doing?” Came Rusty’s grumbly voice above her head, but he didn’t push her away, either. 

Rather, Porsha felt a hand gently pat her back tentatively. Still, she shook and cried softly. The first time in a long time she could openly cry in another’s presence and not be ridiculed for it. 

“There there, girl. Shhhh, everything will be okay, it’s not the end of the world!” Rusty tried to sound consoling as he could. 

Despite her grief, Porsha couldn’t help but notice how wonderful and, what was it, powerful Rusty smelled. With her face still pressed up against him, she caught a full whiff of him and it made her feel all the more comfortable and protected. He didn’t need to spray on a bunch of high dollar cologne or deodorant to smell good. He had a natural scent to him that just felt right to her. A warm sensation seemed to be working its way up from her tailbone throughout the length of her spine and neck, and finally, she felt assured once more. Perhaps, her tail was swaying just a bit, as well. 

“This is really lovely and all, Porsha, but even my body requires oxygen to function! Mind letting up on my neck a bit, will ya?” Came Rusty’s slightly wheezing voice. 

“S-sorry, I got carried away!” Porsha finally managed to blurt, relinquishing her grip on the man’s neck and pulling herself back into her own seat once more, blushing. 

“No worries,” Rusty said, passing Porsha a roll of blue paper towels. “Mind cleaning up a bit? You look a mess, and if Reginald or someone else shows up here unannounced, I’d rather them not assume I’ve been abusing ya or something to make you cry like that. Just, whatever you do, keep this all a secret between us. We’ll talk more about it later on. For now, however, I’m rather tired and need rest. If you don’t mind, I’d like the bunk to myself tonight, back and neck are right stiff after sleeping hunched over all of last night plus today’s long drive.”

Porsha’s ears dropped at this news. “C-can I um, like, totally sleep with you?” She asked, looking up at him with watery eyes and dabbing her face with the towels. 

Rusty’s eyebrows raised as he stood up, looking down on her. “That’s a bit forward, ain’t it? How old are you, anyway? I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t need to repay my decision not to turn you in by, you know, having a romp with me!” 

“Oh, no no, not like that!” Porsha half yelped in surprise. “Just like, cuddling! Not the naughty thing.”

Sweat was beading up on her brow at the thought of such a thing and how amazing it would be to experience. As much as she’d like to do it, she was in fact, still a virgin and the notion was quite intimidating outside the realm of fantasy. 

“I’m like….” Porsha counted off on her fingers, bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Twenty-six years old, but my twenty-seventh birthday is totally coming up on September twenty-ninth!”

Rusty eyed her again, bending to pick up the dropped barbecue tongs. “I see. Well, your father shouldn’t be too upset that you’re gone. You’re a grown woman, after all. Not much he can do if you decided to up and leave him, really. That makes problems easier, for me, anyway.” 

He gathered up the rest of the cooking utensils and walked towards the semi, stowing them in a compartment under the sleeper before making his way back. Putting a new cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with the flick of a zippo. Walking back to where Porsha sat and taking a long drag on the smoke, he looked down at her once more. 

“Twenty-six, huh? Hell, you’re only a few years younger than me so that’s not awkward at least.”

“Sooo, can I share your bed with you, Rusty, sir?” Porsha asked, beaming and wagging slightly. “I’d like, totally feel much safer if you said yes!” 

He grunted a bit, grinning. “You do realize that bed’s only designed for one occupant? Plus, I’m not the smallest guy around and tend to stretch out a lot and move in my sleep. I mean, we can try, but don’t start whining to me in the middle of the night if you find yourself uncomfortable because I won’t hear it!” 

Porsha wagged some more, positively grinning now. “Well, there’s like, only one way to find out if it will work, right?” She said, jumping up and walking up to her savior, taking hold of his hand without thinking. He didn’t pull it away. 

Rusty looked at her, now she was only inches from him once more and said. “Okay, fine. If you can make it work, I’ll humor you.” And he flicked his half smoked cigarette to the ground, snuffed it out and faced her. 

“Yay!” Porsha chirped and without another word, started leading Rusty towards the parked truck, a giddy spring in her step and a light, happy feeling in her chest. 

Inside the cab of the truck, the two of them sat in their respective seats. The cab lights had all been switched on to prepare sleeping accommodations, and curtains had been drawn across the windows for privacy. Porsha eyed Rusty nervously, he seemed to be fidgeting a bit. 

“Just so you know, I sleep in my skivvies. I don’t like the feeling of shirts, sweats, or whatever wrapping themselves up in my limbs at night. It’s a claustrophobia thing. Nothing worse than having a nightmare and waking up wadded up in clothing that starkly gives off the vibe of being stuck in the coils of a large serpent. Plus I’m a warm blooded individual and tend to overheat easy, so less is more in my case. Personally, I’d feel a lot less awkward if you kept what you have on, if possible, Porsha…” Rusty explained, nervously eyeballing her and twiddling his thumbs. 

Puzzled, Porsha titled her head. “Like, what are skivvies?” 

“Underwear, silly! Just that and nothing else. Never cared for the whole full on birthday suit sleeping thing. Never liked having my business flopping around and getting trapped under my leg whilst I sleep.” 

So, he was well endowed. Porsha visibly blushed at the thought of this, trying to hide her bashfulness. “Ohhhh, I’ve like, never heard them called that term befor!” She giggled. “I totally just call them panties or in pajama terms, nighties!”   

Tucking her hands clasped together tightly between her thighs. Porsha quickly turned her gaze away, knowing her blush would be all too obvious. Her ears were ringing, and there was an odd tingling sensation somewhere in the region of her groin and it was starting to get her all riled up. She had to get herself under control, and now! 

“I see. So yeah, if you could stay as dressed as possible, I’d appreciate that. If you get too hot, you may have to crawl up front, or crack a window. Luckily for us, this desert tends to cool off a bit at night this time of year so it may not be bad. There’s a small fan up in the corner of the bunk if you think you need it. Although, it rattles a bit so may make it difficult to sleep.” Rusty continued. 

Porsha, still having her head turned away, merely nodded, grinning sheepishly to herself and doing everything she could to keep her mind away from anything remotely romantic or sexy. She heard Rusty moving around next to her, grumbling to himself along with the unmistakeable sound of clothing parting ways with the body, and a zipper unzipping. 

She chanced a look his way, and instantly became flustered again. There he was, sitting next to her in nothing but briefs. His shirt and pants tossed up on the dashboard. His chest was chiseled and toned, his arms and abs were well muscled too despite his daily job of sitting and driving. How on earth did he look so good? Surely he didn’t have the time of day to stop somewhere in his travels and hit up a gym. His diet wasn’t exactly ideal health wise either. Rusty was looking away, trying to find something in the door pocket on his side. Porsha stole a glance down south quickly, and a sizable lump greeted her eyes. The sight of this, sent a warm, moist sensation surging through her own nethers and she blushed ever harder. 

“Oh my…” Porsha half mumbled, half moaned, averting her gaze away yet again. 

“Say what?” Came Rusty’s sleepy voice.

“N-nothing! Just like, totally talking to myself again. I do that a lot, y’know!” Porsha lied lazily, but it was the best answer she could come up with in that moment. 

“Right. Well then, time to crawl into bed now. I’ll go first, you can come in after I get settled. It’ll be tight, but this was your idea so we’ll try it!” 

With that, Rusty flicked off the lights and made his way into the bunk. Head and torso first, he crawled sideways so his upper body faced the passenger side and pulled his legs up and scooted far as he could against the far side, back facing Porsha and pulling a blanket over his shoulder and dropping his head to a pillow.

“Luckily for us, we get to sleep in a little bit tomorrow as the delivery can’t be dropped until nine. Even if this arrangement is a bit uncomfortable, the extra rest time should more than make up for it if that’s the case.”

Gingerly, Porsha got up and made her way into the bunk, resting her hands on the edge of the bed and eyeing the arrangement skeptically. The bed was roughly the size of a standard twin. Luckily for her, the seat backs of the truck were adjusted far enough backwards that she would be able to lean against them for support and ideally not wind up falling to the floor in the middle of the night. 

Sitting sideways, Porsha laid herself down and scooted inwards a bit. Just far enough so her long legs, midsection, and chest barely brushed against Rusty’s backside. Hopefully not enough to make him uncomfortable. He was already breathing deeply, had he fallen asleep so quickly already?

Biting her lip again, Porsha carefully fluffed up a pillow and gently laid her head down on it. Her snout, mere centimeters away from the back of Rusty’s neck. She worried her breathing may bother him but doubted it given his already sleep-induced state. 

Porsha folded her arms carefully across her chest, and brought her hands together crisscross shoulder to shoulder. The temptation to wrap one arm around Rusty was burning, however this kind of boldness would probably get her booted back to the front seat and so she stifled the urge to cuddle him. It was a warm night, Porsha had no need to bother with a blanket given that she was still clothed along with her silky wolf’s  fur to help. If only Rusty felt the same, Porsha definitely wouldn’t mind laying face to face with that chiseled man’s body all night long, respectfully admiring, of course! 

Despite her brain’s predicament, Porsha soon found herself nodding off into a peaceful slumber. Comfortable and safe, even owing to the truck’s cramped cabin, she’d rather be right here right now than anywhere else. Not in a long while had she been able to relax, let her guard down and not worry about anything. Even if the whole world was now looking for her, so what? Here, she was safe and content. What did it all matter, anyway? She was twenty-six years old. Surely once the press and possibly, her father, realized this little tidbit, they’d just let her go. After all, Porsha was far away from doing anything illegal. What was there to worry about, anyway? 

Smiling to herself, Porsha let out a long, contented sigh and she too, was fast asleep at last.