He likes how her skirt’s pleats fall like a picket fence before she sits, how its ridges and folds make her body guesswork. But blonde. She looks like she’d understand a pleasant meal ends with a toothpick. This puts him in a good mood. He rubs his nose and tells his best joke about a greased pig and a corset.
She hopes he’s here incognito and this isn’t how he really dresses. If she blinks often enough, she spends less time having to look at him directly.
He asks if she has something in her eye and shrugs when she says no.
She says, “Look, this is something I ask everyone: If you had to frisk me on the highway, where would you put your fingers? Don’t be mushy about it.”
When he drops her off, she decides the best way to say sorry is to kiss him. She’s surprised by the burn, by the way he bites her lower lip.