Again.“Light sweats.”“What else?”I’m wearing boy shorts but say, “Panties.”Then I say, “What do you want?”“Would you like to see m... truck sometime?”I really do not give a shit, but would riding around in his truck be any more boring than this summer in Shithole, USA? “We could do some road drinking.”Drinking could be a relief. It could help me forget my pathetic life. Reluctantly I say okay.The next night Dale picks me up in the bowling alley parking lot and we start driving around. He hands. ” He was quick to nod in agreement. As I crossed this out, or wrote down that, and basically did whatever he said to do from his spot right behind me, I could almost tell the moment he’d look away from the board and focus instead on my wiggling ass. He’d either stutter and stammer, or just go quiet for a few seconds, and it was all I could do during those times to not turn around in an attempt to catch him in the act. And for the record Peter really sucked at math, even if I WAS distracting. More

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