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She turned to open her underwear drawer.“Uh-uh,” I stopped her. “No panties. I’ll just have to rip them off.”“Oh, I thought you liked that part.”“I do, I do, but I like you better bare.”She smiled and closed the drawer. “Well, I don’t have that many sexy panties anyway.”The tray of lasagna was lukewarm, so she carried it into the kitchen to put it in the microwave. As she reached up to pull some plates out of the cupboard, I got a nice peek at the little tuft between her legs.I opened the refrigerator. “Want a beer?”“No thanks, but grab me a water.”She dished out the food and we went into the living room by common consent. I thought I’d reserve the kitchen table to nail her again sometime. We didn’t turn on the TV and didn’t feel the need to force a conversation. Somehow she had managed to tuck the t-shirt over her snatch while we ate. When we put our plates down, I leaned back against the arm of the couch with my beer.“Why don’t you lean back, too?” I suggested. She rested against. ‘There!’ he shouted. The car came around a corner and she barely reacted in time, slamming on her breaks and coming to a halt just as tiny flaming embers speckled the hood of her car. The bridge had stood for hundreds of years, it was constructed entirely of wood and the fire aimed to devour it. ‘Turn around,’ he said, and before she could protest, ‘Now! Do it now!’ The sign reflected in her headlights. She turned up Salt Mine Trail, despite her gut screaming out that they were headed straight into the glow of Despréaux. The inferno seemed to thrive just beyond the hills, but impulse had hold of the wheel and she pushed the accelerator to the floor. ‘Follow the road to the end.’ An old cabin haunted the back of the Trail. He told her to pull in. She stopped around the back side of the homestead, helping him out and up to the door. The woods smelled of mildew and smoke, but surprisingly, the ash was not falling there. A soft, sweet and inviting light bathed the porch and said, home.
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