24
The sun had tucked itself beneath the horizon thirty minutes ago. They all stood at the side of the road under the cover of darkness; Gwin, Lance, and the truck which had come to an abrupt halt. She and Lance had no flashlight and didn't dare use the flares. Instead, Gwin held her palms under the hood. Her witch fire illuminated the engine, and the man bent under the hood.
Gwin couldn’t help but admire Lance’s backside. It was round and firm. Not too high, like a woman’s rear. Not too full, like someone with extra baggage.
Lance had always filled out his pants nicely. His shirts too. Now she had the occasion to look her fill instead of stealing furtive glances.
“Gwin, can you raise the light?”
Her hands had sunk down lower to get a closer, brighter look at the junk under his trunk
