It was a special run — an emergency run from Kentucky to Bangor, and we were going to get paid extra if we made it in under two days.
What were we hauling? Tampons — a rig crammed full of them. Made you wonder what the emergency was, like maybe every woman in Maine went on the rag at once.
Kenny Taylor and I took turns driving and sleeping. You don’t much see two drivers working a rig anymore, but like I said, this was a big emergency. We’d just put the New York State Thruway behind us and were barreling down the Pike on the Berkshire stretch around 3 in the morning when Kenny started grumbling.
“I gotta eat,” he said.
“Nothing around here. Wait ’till be get to Worcester, I know some good diners, then we can peel right on to 495.”
“That’s another hour. My stomach’s growling now. I didn’t eat much before we headed out.”
I was about to repeat that there wasn’t much around those parts, when we spotted the sign BOINK’s. Only part of the sign was lit, but we could make out “Pancake House” and “Open 24 hours.”
“Hmm, must be a new place,” I said.
We pulled off at the next exit and I asked the toll taker what he knew about Boink’s. All he knew was it just opened a couple of months before and got lots of visits from the Berkshire sheriff and state cops. Sounded like my kind of place.
It wasn’t far off the exit when we reached this place that looked like Hansel and Gretel’s cottage on steroids, with a pulsing neon sign Boink’s S&M Pancake House and Bondage Nook.
“What the hell is S&M?” Kenny said, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the sign.
“I don’t know, syrup and something else, I guess. It’s a pancake joint.”
“Bondage?”
“You know, like what they do on Wall Street. Maybe Boink does that as a sidelight.”
“What the hell kind of name is Boink?”
“Who gives a shit? I thought you were hungry.”
Kenny shrugged and followed me inside.
Whoa! The hostess — man, she was dressed like Xena. Then there was three girls kneeling against the wall with their heads down, practically naked except for these shiny bikini kinda things. A couple of other girls were leaning against the opposite wall. They wore some kind of shiny plastic corsets and fishnet stockings like you read about.
“Good morning,” the hostess said. Man, she was a big girl.
“Hi, two for breakfast.”
“Dom or sub?”
“Huh? No, we ain’t here for no subs — breakfast.”
She gave me a queer look, then she nodded, “Dom.”
She snapped her fingers and said, “Tessa, show these gentlemen to table 7.”
One of the kneeling girls got up, took a couple of menus and said, “Please sir, allow this girl to show you to your table.”
“Sure,” I said. She never looked me in the eye. I figured she was new and maybe a little shy.
So Kenny and I got to the table and sat down. The next thing we know, the little sweetie kinda bent down and threw herself onto the table so her cute little ass was sticking up in the air. “This girl is ready to serve and obey.”
Well, I was flummoxed. Kenny said, “Gee, I guess they’re serious about good service here.”
She was still pressed tits-to-the-tabletop, so I went ahead and ordered. “Honey, you got maybe a trucker’s special?”
“No sir, not that I’m aware of, but I’ll ask. This girl is so sorry for not knowing, and is ready to accept her punishment.”
“Now, hold on, sweetie, it’s no big deal. We’re still gonna leave a tip. Now, tell you what, bring me a stack of blueberry pancakes, a couple of eggs scrambled and bacon.”
“Same for me, except make my pancakes buckwheat,” Kenny said.
“Yeah, and a couple of OJs and coffee — hot and black.”
“This girl hears and obeys,” she said, stood and headed for the kitchen.
Kenny and I looked around the joint. A few more customers came in and were seated. One couple looked like they were just finishing up. They didn’t look that young, but I figured they were newlyweds, cause the guy was hand-feeding the girl, and they were acting all cute with each other, you know?
Anyway, one of the corset waitresses sashays up to their table and asks, “Hot maple syrup?”
The guy says, “Yes, please, pour it on.”
Well, cripes! The next thing you know, the girl he’s been so sweet to stood up, bent over the table like our little girl waitress just did, and let her dress slide right off. And she was naked! Naked as the day she was born.
Now the corset waitress, she started pouring that hot syrup down her back, and the girl, well, she was just squirming and whimpering. I caught sight of her fingers poking between her legs like she was playing with herself, you know? Well, the corset waitress slapped her hand and said, “You weren’t given permission for that,” and then she just went on pouring that syrup on her.
Finally, the guy said to her, “Stand up and put on your dress now.”
And she whimpered, “But, I’m all sticky.”
And he said, “Well, you’ll have to walk around all sticky for the rest of the day, because you are a disobedient little slut.”
“Yes, master.” Then she pulled that dress up. Well, I know how she felt. I hate to be sticky myself.
Meanwhile, Kenny said, “Holy shit, George, what kinda pancake house is this?”
“I dunno, Ken. But, it don’t look like anyone thinks anything’s out of the ordinary.”
“You think that girl liked having syrup poured all over her?”
“I dunno, but she looks like she’s smiling now.” She was — the guy was hand-feeding her again.
Just then a woman — must’ve been six feet tall if you include the afro — came by with a coffee pot. Wow, that girl was darker than new asphalt and she was wearing this tiny — like postage stamps — bra that barely covered the shotgun-shell nipples on her double-Ds.
She leaned over, “So, you like it hot and black?”
“Um, yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I like a little cream in mine.”
Then she gave me a smile like would light up Hades, leaned over and poured my coffee. And my pants were all of a sudden awful tight. She poured some into Kenny’s cup then she turned and walked away with a saucy tilt of her hips.
“George,” Kenny said, except his voice is kind of a wheeze. “This is the best damned service I ever got anywhere.”
We hadn’t quite got over the coffee girl when two corset girls came by with our shy little waitress.
“Assume the position, slut!” one of them said.
Our shy little girl climbed on top of the table, then one of the corset girls just stripped her — yanked off her little outfit — and she lay tits-down again.
The corset girls piled our plates on her back.
“Gee, ain’t they hot?” I said.
“It’s all right, sir,” our shy girl said. “Please let me be your table.”
“Sure,” Kenny said. He was just kind of touching the little girl’s behind with the tips of his fingers. “I ain’t never ate off a naked girl before.”
One of the corset girls said, “Your bacon, sir? How many strips?”
“Oh, four or five ought to do it.”
“Five then,” she said, and nodded to the other corset girl, who put one strip of bacon on my plate. Then the other corset girl brought a little cane down across our shy girl’s behind.
“Ouch! Thank you, sir, please have another.”
Another strip of bacon, and “Ouch, please sir, have another.”
“Whoa!” I said. “You know, the doc’s been after me to cut down my cholesterol. That’ll do it for the bacon.”
“You’re sure?” The corset girl with the cane looked disappointed, but I nodded and smiled.
She signaled her twin and they left us to eat breakfast, but not before one warned, “Don’t you spill a thing, slut!”
Kenny didn’t hold back after that. He held two big handfuls of the girl’s ass.
“Honey,” I said. “Are you okay? This is all right with you?”
“Oh, yes sir, I live to serve. Please enjoy your breakfast; I’ll try to be real still.”
Well, what do you do in a situation like that? We dug in, and she didn’t wiggle a bit. The food was good too.
Finally, a bus boy came by and cleared “the table” and our girl stood up, after asking our permission.
“Is there anything else this girl can do to serve you, sirs?”
“No, sweetie, we’ve eaten our fill, and we gotta get back on the road. But, I gotta big tip for you.”
Well, the next thing she did was get down on all fours and lift her behind way up.
“This unworthy girl is ready to accept your gratuity, sir.”
I didn’t know what else to do, so I put a ten-spot between the cheeks of her ass. She clenched it tight. She was a little slip of a girl, but she must’ve worked out a lot.
“Thank you, sir, please come back and use me again.”
We paid the bill up front. The Xena hostess asked, “Everything all right — did Tessa serve you well?”
“No complaints,” I said. But I kinda noticed something in her eyes, like she was disappointed we didn’t have anything to gripe about. And, crazy as it was, it made me feel bad, so I whispered, “Well, the orange juice was kind of pulpy.”
She smiled, “Thank you, sir. We’ll correct that.”
Back on the road, Kenny said, “I can’t wait ’till we get to the truck stop in Bangor. Wait’ll I tell them about that place.”
“Ha! You think anyone’ll believe you?”
Kenny didn’t say anything for the next few miles. Then he sighed, “I wonder if they’d let you lick syrup off of those girls.”
“Tell you what-whadya say we drop in there on the way back, for lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, tell them we want to try their subs.”
Kenny grinned.
© 2005 Robert Buckley. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.