At least while Mark worked his land, disappearing of a morning in his best up truck. It was only until she had the strength to move on. Mark was happy... to have her stay, and they'd now gotten to a habit of locking the bathroom door. ***It was the first and only time he'd seen her exposed young body. He played the memory of her, bent over and vulnerable so many times through his head. He could practically taste her on his lips. He was ashamed that he couldn't resist. But every night when he heard. She would never be caught in public in them, because she characterized them to herself as "fuck toy clothes."Any clothes could be "fuck toy clothes," provided they were worn properly. For instance, she had put on pantyhose, but only so she could pull them down. As the pantyhose were already see-through, they allowed her to be effectively naked to start with, yet allowed her to undress to give the appearance of becoming even more naked. She wore a tight leather miniskirt, which was soon bunched. I could see the truck in the moonlight and it wasn't his little half ton pickup. It was too dark to see colors, but it must be the red dually she spoke of - with TOOLS! I moved across the yard slowly, watching the windows, but fairly safe in the darkness. As I got closer, I could see that the truck was not a dually, but instead was a full sized long bed dump truck of some kind. What the fuck? The logo on the door said Tenneson Co-Op. Shit. It was a grain truck. He must have driven it. ” In an instant we were both dead sober as we collected our belongings and left the room. She offered to pay for the Karaoke, and I didn’t utter a word of protest. Her husband was paying for it anyway.We stepped outside as the sun was rising. I was looking forward to a long, reflective walk home alone, where I would either feel sorry for myself or process the experience and learn from it. I wouldn’t get the chance to decide, though, because Y — threw open the door to a cab and I got in without.