I was driving home alone in a massive snowstorm on the New York Thruway. It was 3:00 am, the roads were impassable. I had the same idea as everybody else: pull into the rest area until the roads are better. The building was typical with a fast-food anchor and a couple of deli and coffee-type stands in a food court style.
The driver of the car next to mine got out as I did. She was bundled up in a white parka. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, pink pouty lips, skin that said she was about 19 and delicious. I offered her my hand, “Wouldn’t want you to slip.”
Instead of taking my hand in her... Continue»