[lumberjim]

"Honey, let's stop at the Starbucks in the rest stop before our exit."

The man headed toward the wrong entrance, and realizing it, doubled back toward the correct door as though he had just been looking at something. Inside, the rest area was humming with activity. He made his way to the back of the short line for starbucks. As he waited, he noticed an attractive blond and her mumu clad mother milling about eating ice cream from paper cups. The girl was probably late twenties, but dressed in a psuedo cheerleader outfit with fuzzy cowboy boots. Not bad looking, he thought, but gauging by mom, some guy has a rude awakening in store for him.

He put cream in his coffee as he waited for his wife's Grande Decaf Soymilk Hazelnut Latte, extra hot. He wasn't even embarrassed to order it by now. Looking up, as he planned the clandestine expulsion of some more of the unprecedented amount of gas he had apparently taken on at the Easter Feast at mother in law's, he noticed a ruffly hot pink and orange miniskrt carried in by two very long and tanned legs. The splash of color stood out against an otherwise dismal background of dark blues, greys, and browns on this rainy Sunday. The skirt was topped by a faded blue denim jacket, and a mop of blonde hair. He was not able to make out a face, as she darted between the backs of exiting travellers in her haste for the ladies room. She was rummaging in her pocket book, and her head was downturned.

His Latte was ready, and as he turned to go, he caught another glimpse of pink as it was eclipsed by the cheerleader, the mumu mom, and now dad in his overcoat. A man in green held the door for him as he left the rest stop, headed back to the car. AS soon as he felt that he was out of earshot of any passersby, he purged a troublesome batch of mimosa bubbles in a quavering yet resonant stream of poop molecules. Amused, he chuckled to himself.

His wife, witnessing this, but not hearing, questioned what the smile was about. " Oh, there're a lot of sluts in the rest stop today."

"Must be peak slut traveling time or something," she observed.



Amanda hurried into the rest stop. " Oh, my god. I look like such a slut in this skirt. What if I see someone I know?" She kept her head down, and rushed in to the ladies room. One good thing about that borrowed skirt was that when you peed, you just flipped it up, and presto! She was done quickly, skipped washing her hands, and rushed back out to the waiting taxi before he took a better fare.

"OK, thanks for stopping!" she said to the driver. He was a fat old guy that smelled like metal. Luigi. She couldn't have pronounced his last name if she'd tried.
Harrisburg was only an hour away now. almost home. SHe had no idea how she was going to get into her house without her parents seeing her. She had told them the job in Atlantic City was a photo shoot for Red Book, but now, she had to come up with a way to explain the loss of their car to the police, the bruise under her left eye, her drastic change in wardrobe and makeup, and somehow not reveal that she had been turning VIP tricks since she'd been back home. Maybe that metal smell was her own fear.