August approached in a golden sweltering haze. He shielded his eyes against the glare of her arrival. Sun glinted off the hood of her Porsche Taycan as it pulled into the parking lot.
As he waited, he took in the landscape of parched, drought-crackled earth and desiccated grasses, he thought the desert of his life between their meetings. He remembered the pleasure of her tracing the contours of his back and thighs; her kisses like gentle rain upon his skin.
He was standing on the side of a lonely strip of highway next to Last Stop Gas and the Notell Hotel. That was part of her fiery nature: a love of cheap motels and expensive vodka. He was sure she would come to hate him and these seedy rendezvous.
feature image: @ lorraine
a mélange of: mlmm first line Friday: “August approached in a golden sweltering haze”; mlmm Saturday Mix opposing forces: love and hate, rain and drought, Linda G. Hill SoCS: what word comes to mind when you look at the last picture you took? Answer: pleasure (photo of my lunch on Friday — eating out is a real pleasure)