"Oh ffffffFFFUCK!"
*
The highway patrolman strode up to the SUV like he was walking a runway rather than the crumbly shoulder of a sleepy, two-lane highway. He was dressed in all tan with a broad brimmed hat and mirrored sunglasses. He rapped on the glass, hard, and glared inside.
James rolled down the window, sheepish. The whole car reeked of d**k and p***y -- s*x, c*m -- and James swore he could see the scent seeping out the window like sultry smoke.
"You were swerving pretty bad back there," the officer said, not even waiting for a greeting. His nose twitched ominously.
"I'm not drunk," James said, feeling like a teenager again in all sorts of upsetting ways. "Or high."
"I need to see your license and registration," the officer said. Molly reached over and popped open the glovebox
