normajeaneproductions:
The languid demeanor Connie had upkept so well in those few moments of casual conversation evaporated at the site of Jack’s car. She pursed her lips speculatively. Cherry red was her color. It was too clean, too irresistible, too good to be true. Connie allowed her fingers to slide over the hood of the car, not neglecting the precise match of her perfectly manicured nails to the Corvette’s fresh coat of paint.
What would a bit of fun hurt so long as she was cautious?
“Oh, we shall.”
Once situated, Jack sped onward towards the bright orange sunset. The warm evening air rushed by, breezing through Jack’s chestnut hair. Moments like these made Jack O’Brady forget, if even for a moment, that his life would always be far more complicated than warm summer evenings, driving in a car with a beautiful woman. Nothing could ever be so simple.
Jack look forward, the roar of the engine making it difficult to carry on a conversation. Within a few minutes, he pulled into their destination and an attendant greeted them immediately.
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