Jeanne looked like a dream but was close to tears as she stood in the lot of a deserted service station waiting for an attendant. The scene appeared to be staged for a classic car magazine photo-shoot as she stood beside her restored MG roadster convertible.
Her posture was perfect: erect, head high and level, shoulders square, breasts jutting alluringly, knees and ankles pressed together, bare thighs tickled by a hemline that danced playfully three inches below her panties.
The car was an anniversary gift from Joe. Jeanne rarely drove it but this was a special occasion, her first "date" with Kendall. She was furious with herself as she watched a black youth in new coveralls approach her nervously.
Kendall had finally agreed to meet her alone but she'd gotten lost looking for the restaurant. She was already almost three-quarters of an hour late, and in the middle of nowhere, when she stopped for directions. Perhaps not the exact center of nowhere but certainly not more than a few hundred feet from it.
"Yes, ma'am? Is there something I can help you with?"
"Do you know where this is?" Jeanne asked, hopefully handing him the slip of paper with the address and directions printed on it.
"No ma'am, I surely do not," he answered, handing the paper back.
"Is there someone else I can ask?"
"No ma'am, there's nobody left here but me. I was just closing up? Can I get you some gas or something?"
"Are you sure you don't know where this is?" she asked him again. "Do any of those roads sound familiar?"
He took the paper again but just shook his head. "I think Masons Highway is east of here...about twenty miles. But really, that's just a guess."
Jeanne stared blankly at the paper hoping for a revelation when her cell phone rang. She recognized Kendall on the caller ID.
"Kendall, baby, I'm so sorry, I got lost. Don't you know any places that a reasonable person can fucking find?"
"It's all right, Jeanne," Kendall's smooth baritone soothed her. "Lots of wives find they don't have the nerve to pull the trigger on something like this."
"It's not that honey, I'm fucking lost. That's the truth. If someone tells you where I am, can you give me directions?" Jeanne asked, looking at the young attendant.
"I'm going to have to re-sechedule," Kendall informed her causing Jeanne's heart to crash. "Look, I'll get back to you tomorrow." Jeanne's cell went dead; closing it, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.
"Husband trouble?" asked the obviously uncomfortable black youth looking at Jeanne's wedding rings.
"Boyfriend troubles," she sighed, dabbing her eyes. "Do you sell beer? I could use one," she said, nodding at the mini-mart set back from the pumps and smiling bravely at her misfortune.
"Seventeen flavors!" he beamed with a bright smile and walked with her to the store.
"What's your favorite?" Jeanne asked more brightly than she felt, placing a fifty-dollar bill on the counter.
"Not today," he told her pushing the bill back, "the register's already been counted out. Can't ring up any more purchases." Taking two IC Lights from the cooler he opened them, handed one to Jeanne, and held the other aloft.
"Screw the bastards," he offered sweetly. Jeanne took a big swallow; it was ice cold and delicious.
