Excerpt: ‘Stoned’ by G.M. Skovlund

“Come here… ” Tim says. He takes my hand and starts leading me to the back of the shop.

He’s gone into ‘take charge’ mode, as I am still completely confused as how to get this off of me. He pulls me around the corner and opens the door to what’s used for truckers when they need to sleep and shower.

“Get in there and start washing that off with the soap that’s in the dispenser… I’ve got a spare set of clothes in my truck.” He takes my hat off and tosses it to the floor by the door.

My mouth opens to argue this idea, but…

“… don’t even try to disagree… you won’t be able to get this stuff off of you if you wait to get home… ”

His green eyes are undoubtedly serious.

Okay. Good enough reason. I still don’t know what this is that was spilled on me.

“Use that soap… it will get the oil off the best.” He turns the water on in the shower and leaves to get the extra clothes. I step in and close the door behind me. I drop my clothes fast because It feels like the black ‘goo’ is getting though my jeans to my legs… like I’m going to be stained for life.

The shower door is solid, but it’s only covering me from below my shoulders to above my knees. I need to get this done fast. I get the suds going and wash vigorously to get the black stuff off of me, and I’m surprised when it starts working. I lower my head into the shower water and start on my hair. I can’t imagine what this will do to my hair… industrial soap.

Whatever… better than having to shave my head because this ‘goo’ won’t come out. After I rinse the soap out of my hair, I open my eyes and see Tim is putting the stack of clothes on the bench. Thankfully he doesn’t look my way and quickly leaves the room. I’m beyond embarrassed. I think my body did a total head to toes blush in the deepest red ever.

As soon as I can, I grab the towel from the shelf and dry off. I think it’s all off of me and I’m now really glad he told me to do this. My truck would have been a disaster if I would have drove home, and then dad would have been pissed.

I wrap the towel around me before I step out of the shower. The pile of my clothes, panties, bra, t-shirt, jeans and even my flip-flops are a solid black ‘goo’ mess. I look at the clothes he left me. It’s them or nothing.

Wonderful, I am now without bra or panties.

I quickly slip the jeans and shop shirt on. It’s plain gray and has his name embroidered into it on one side, the shop logo on the other. My dad never wears these because he’s the shop foreman. He used to and didn’t like the idea of wearing his name. He always grumbled that he knew is name, he didn’t need it on his shirt to remind him, and if someone wanted to know his name, they could ask.

The shirt has pockets … good. Helps with the fact that I need an extra layer of material to hide not having a bra on. The jeans are really loose. I roll the waist down once. Now they might not fall off. They are too long, but I just pull them up so they bunch at the ankles.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Can I come in now?” Tim asks.

“Yeah… ”

He comes in and stifles a laugh.

“Fits perfect!”

“Right.”

“Seriously… you can pull it off. You look great.” He is barely holding back his need to laugh.

“I’m a mess.” I say. I have wet hair and my makeup is gone. I don’t even have a comb to comb through it, but if I did I wouldn’t be able to without having conditioner to de-tangle it.

“Gorgeous mess?” Tim asks.

How can I not laugh at that comment?

I burst out laughing, which obviously gives him permission to finally let his pent up laugh out too.

I glance at my pile of clothes.

“Do you have a bag?”

“That stuff won’t come out of your clothes, sorry.” Tim says.

“Great.” Glad they weren’t my favorites. But now I will have a red panty in my drawer with no bra to match it and a polka dot bra with no panty to match it.

“Thanks for the clothes; I’ll get them back to you.”

He reaches over to pick up my jeans, handing me the two bills he had given me.

“Forget this?”

“Thanks.” I say.

I start to walk out the door, but Tim steps in front of me.

“You don’t have shoes on.” He points to my feet.

“So? I’ve walked barefoot before, Tim.”

“You can’t walk through the shop like that… you’ll either get that oil all over you again or you could step on something and get hurt.”

So, now I have to wear his work boots?

“So are you going to tell me that you have an extra pair of…?”

I start to say, but before I can even finish my sentence, he has scooped me into his arms and starts to carry me through the shop.

“Tim!”

“Just relax… I won’t drop you.” The look in his eyes when he says it makes me realize this is just plain fun for him. Wow! He is strong! I feel like a featherweight to him!

All the mechanics are back from lunch now and are clapping and laughing, like Tim is the super hero rescuing me from the attack of the oil blob. Almost to the door when it swings open. I have the flash back of the can of oil coming at me like the last time I was near the door, so I duck my head into his chest feeling like I’m avoiding the can.

Tim stops suddenly. I look up. It’s not an oil can flying at me.

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