“You know, I am probably not going to forget this little escapade my whole life.”

“Hmm, you might not have that chance, dear sir.” as she winks at him.

He pulls up his pants and exits the car.

He seemed tired, and she did not want to risk any unplanned accidents.

“How do I know where to find you?” he yells while she drives away.

She brakes causing the tires to smoke sweet little forms.

“Trust me. If I need to, I will find you.”

The confusion on his face causes satisfaction in her secretive soul and as she drives away, he smiles ironically.

His wallet, license, and social security are all in her possession.

He thinks, “Yeah, I guess she can find me.”, while walking into the city of sin and fortune.

Changing gears, she pops the new “Fluke” CD into her stereo. An excursion of interesting proportion will take place, different than most, this is unplanned.

This is instinct.

This is desire.

This is Lust.

Her plump lips mumble along to  ”Snapshot” by her most favorite artists in sound and adrenaline, Fluke.

A beautiful blonde on the right side of the strip, a handsome fellow on the left.

Oh so many opportunities.

Oh so many.

Perhaps a good quality coffee is in order, you know, before the show begins.

Just a little.

“Are you some fucking nut job?”

“Nut job? No…I just like watching others drive me around. You are going to drive me the rest of the way to Vegas, and no funny stuff yes? Because I wouldn’t want to piss me off. I can count the capillaries under your skin if you’d like. Understood?”

“And after we get there? What happens to me?”

“Nothing. You drive, do your duty for me, and it ends.”

A hesitant approval synchronized with the click of a lighter and the smoke escapes between her lips.

“What do you think of this country?”

“What do I think of this country? I think its full of whacks like yourself miss.”

“Maybe you aren’t as dumb as I thought.”

“How so?”

“You seem to be realistic at least.”

“And what if I am like this because of all the other “normal” people here? What if the sheer pressure of society bearing on me to be normal has subsided me into being completely “whack” as you describe it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Indeed, you would not.”

She checks her watch, been a while since she last slept, but the three coffees and vodka did its duties, about 40 minutes away she decides to read the newspaper, perhaps a place where she will go unnoticed will do for now.

The color of her hair will also need to be rendered to a light blonde perhaps, to change the general appearance and disguise the identity.

She turns her head towards him, his behavioral signs do not tell of anxiety, fear, or any of these expected signs.

The light of the moon hits his lips, showing a profile she just now admires.

She bites her bottom lip.

Lust?

Desire?

Maybe she will not discard him as quickly as she thought.

Just maybe.

He was never the kind to fall in love, to be completely crazy about a woman, but with her,
it is different. She is different.

She can be so fun, yet so sexy in the same time.

He gets in the car, he will go and make up with her, three days without her has seemed
like an eternity.

Italian love songs can be heard from her windows, he knocks, no answer.

He calls, she answers, her nose sniffling.

Him: Do you feel like opening the door? I am kind of in front of it and it won’t open.

Her: Oh, um, alright, but I look like crap, um, oh well.

Him: I am sure you look fine, just move your butt over here and open the door.

The door moves and her dark eyes reveal a hard couple days.

He can see she has been crying, but she crys alot, so maybe it wasn’t for him.

She jumps in his arms and hugs him so very tight it hurts his rib cage, she could not help it, although she is very stubborn, she has been dreaming of feeling him next to her for so long.

Their love is not the perfect kind, the one where they know they will make it, it is not destined.

But they feel something so strong, when apart, all they think about is each other.

She wonders if this is the right kind of love, the passionate extremely jealous never wanting to be far from one and other kind of love.

Most stories of this love end in tragedy, one will do anything for another, and whether it be nature or god’s wrath, something bad always happens.

Yet the soft touch of his hands upon her arms melts her into tiny little pieces.

The way she raises her eyes at him he can feel something so grand, so poetic, that it makes him fall in love with her time and time again.

A love so powerful, yet so very dangerous.

Take me away my love.

Him: You’re kidding me right? You’re not actually going to buy that scarf, it has like a thousand colors.

Her: Yeah well, you know I like crazy shit. Besides, it goes with like twenty outfits of mine.

Him: Oh all right, you’ll be like my color bursting bag of skittles.

(He messes up her hair lightly.)

Her: OH look, now I look like a colored porcupine. Thanks.

Him: But you’re my porcupine right?

Her: Sure ( She pokes his stomach several times giggling. ) Spikes and all!

Him: Um. Ow. That hurt.

Her: Awww, really? Come here, let me kiss it so it feels better.

Him: Nope, sorry, I read somewhere colored porcupine are not healthy at all, especially for the heart.

Her: Hmm, well, I shall not contradict that, I mean look at you, your practically hyperventilating just looking at me. ( She says this in a very cocky tone. )

Him: Oh come here, you silly goose, just kiss me already.

Her: Oh alrightttt…

(They kiss between the left scarf display and the Calvin Klein make-up display to the right.)

Her: Tea, dear?

Him: Sex, dear?

Her: Im serious, chamomile? 

Him: Im serious too, bed?

(They both smile at each other and burst into laughter.)

Him & Her: Tea and Sex, dear?

(Both nodding their heads they leave the kitchen and escape to the bedroom.)

Her: Amore? I think I have to tell you something?

Him: Well what are ya waiting for? Spit it out.

Her: Well after many complicated calculations, and reducing, and adding, and multiplying, and subtracting I’ve found the the equation of you and me gives the definitive result of Love to the infinite power. Do you think I should do further calculations? Or just settle with the given result?

Him: You’re such a dork, you know that?

Her: Yeah, yeah, but you’re crazy about dorks so whoopi for me! Answer please?

Him: Well, I’m an english major, so you do the math.

Her: Although at many times it may seem as if I am a patient person, most of the time, I’m not.

Him: Its perfect, I would not contradict your calculations at all.

Her: Good. Because I freaking forgot the stove on. Shit.

Her: Why don’t you laugh at my jokes anymore? Do you like someone else?

Him: Why must you always assume all these crazy things?

Her: I don’t know! I just feel like we’re going too fast and it’s like I love you but I’m scared, what do you want me to do?!?!?!

Him: God, you’re so crazy, I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time.

Her: Oh now what did I do? Its all my fault now, isn’t that typical.

(He slams the door and leaves, lights a cigarette and shreds up a dry leaf from the street, furious of how stubborn she is.)

(She locks the door behind him,  lights a cigarette and shreds a napkin furious of how stubborn he is.)

They don’t speak for days.