She drives for nearly an hour and a half, making small talk and occasionally reaching over to squeeze my knee or pat my thigh. She’s deliberately avoided mentioning where we’re going. Or more importantly, why. After sharing with her all of the mundane details of my work week, my recent family dramas and what I had for dinner the night before I finally ask her where we’re headed. She smiles and pats my thigh again. "We’re almost there, darlin’," she says in her Midwest drawl. I love her voice, it’s deep and sort of husky, even though she neither smokes nor drinks hard liquor, but I tease her about the Midwestern accent because it makes her smile. Her smile is something that I like even more than her voice. It’s stunning and showcases a row of nearly perfect teeth. She has a small gap between her two front teeth and there’s something about it that I find incredibly sexy.

About five minutes later she swerves off the road into a dusty parking lot. We’ve pulled in front of some ...

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