We have been driving for hours. The relentless tedium transforms monotony into a restless frenzy of short-tempered barbs and endless cigarettes lit one from the other. Pulling off the freeway, his eyes are red spheres piercing the slippery ribbon of highway, squinting through streams of rain that slip around the wipers and drift into his periphery, metronomes swinging from the rear view mirror to the road ahead.
Searching the dial for swing all I retrieve is jazz, giving up I listen to “Cottontail”, settle back with my feet on the dashboard. He adjusts his fedora , relieving his eyes with the godsend of legs propped to the right of him. I smile knowingly and look away, deliberately hiking the hem of my skirt. He allows himself the luxury of a brief fantasy, quietly marveling at graceful arches and cattail limbs while I soothe myself with thoughts of my take of the stash in the ratty brown suitcase cleverly camouflaged beneath old coats. We both enjoy the brief reprieve from reality.
Spotting a neon sign, he backs off the pedal and swerves down a side road to a cheap motel. Rushing to escape the downpour we slam the door behind us. I remove my shoes, sit at the flimsy dresser and apply fresh makeup, brush a blizzard of platinum hair. Leaning in to him I press my breast against his shoulder and with a throaty sigh, “fix me a drink, will you baby?”.
At the edge of the bed I slither from my slip, a smoky eyed toy in stilettos, droplets sweat from my glass and pool in the hollow of my midriff inviting the titillation of his tongue. Tortuously unbuttoning his shirt, his breath is a hot prayer and he lingers in all the right places, precise and voracious.
Before daylight he is on the road again. Rain still flickers at the windows, streaks of red flames, reflection of city lights. The world is asleep, unaware of the fire. The streets are empty but for a young whore sleeping in a doorway. In the pink blush of dawn he is gray and bruised, repeating again and again there was no other option. Burned into his, her lifeless eyes gazing into a different galaxy. His hand throbs, slamming the steering wheel. Dumb broad, she should have known she was not here for the long haul.