Chapter Seventeen
Kathrine dropped her dress down about her head, smoothed it along her thighs and hoisted the zipper in back. From out the front of the cottage she heard the powerful exhaust from a brawny engine. Intense headlights lit the undersides of the trees that were visible through the windows. “That will be my old horse-trader from Kentucky,” Kathrine said. And reaching up under her dress, she dragged her underpants down her legs and off over her shoes. It was a delicious, morally sinful feeling; accompanied with a trembling sense of anticipation.
From the porch Kathrine watched as a monstrous white pickup truck was expertly backed into the parking space beside Johnny’s Mercedes. The dome light blazed and she saw the familiar slope of the big man’s shoulders. The door swung back
