Short dress, big chest, freckled cheeks. She’s almost too pure.
“Thanks again for the ride, mister.”
I’ll be damned if this hitch-hiker is a day over eighteen. She’s fluttering her baby blue eyes in my direction.
It’ll all be over soon. Keep calm.
“Not a problem,” I lie.
She crosses her long legs, flashing up a wink of black lace.
The engine revs.
Just make it quick.
By the time I turn the passenger seat is empty, stained black leather stretching back into its usual form.
I lean forward and gently tap the dash. “Feel better now?”