“Woman, I’m trying to drive,” I shot back, shifting in my seat. “Don’t say that shit.”
“What? I’m great at blow jobs.”
“Unless you wanna give me one now, stop talking about it,” I joked.
When I glanced over, she had a contemplative look on her face.
“You’re not suckin’ my dick in this truck,” I said firmly. “That was a fuckin’ joke.”
“Why not? The bench seat would make it really easy, if you think you could manage driving while I’m doing it.”
“Because this is your dad’s truck. The truck I worked onwith your dad.”
“And?”
“I respect him.”
“You’ve already fucked me. A lot.”
“Not in this truck.”
“Men are weird,” she said with a sigh.
“You’re the weird one,” I joked. “Tryin’ to defile your dad’s truck like that.” I patted the steering wheel.
“I’m guessing that this truck has seen a lot of bare asses,” she replied dryly. “My mom’s and dad’s most recently.”
“And that’s a vivid picture I coulda done without.”
“Have you ever had sex in a car?” she asked curiously.
“Nope.”
“For real?”
“I didn’t have a car before I left Portland,” I replied. “Didn’t even have my license.”
“Damn.”
“First thing I bought was a bike.”
“The one you have now?”
“Nope. An old piece of shit that I fixed up and sold to buy the one I’ve got now.”
“Playing the long game.”
“You know it. Have you?”
“Oh, yeah,” she replied with a chuckle. “The summer after high school. Me and my boyfriend used to go park any place that we wouldn’t be noticed. At the river, in the woods, the Walmart parking lot.”
“No.” I laughed.
“Oh, yeah. We both lived with our parents. His mom stayed at home, my mom worked from home—there was never a bed available in an unoccupied house. Ah, memories.”
“I got pretty good at doin’ it against walls,” I informed her, looking over as she giggled. “Every wall had potential unless it had ivy growin’ on it.”
“Scratchy?”
