We pulled into a huge truckstop just off the interstate. We wandered through the isles of motor oil, Yosemite Sam mud flaps, and adult magazines.
The clerk looked at us like we were little green men with gigantic eyes. I was still slick with sweat under my conservative dress, my messy red hair dark with perspiration. Jon’s tie now hung limply around my neck. His shirt was half untucked with sleeves rolled. We probably looked like we’d been fucking for hours in the back of his car – two horny yuppies with no place else to go.
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