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They were driving home after spending thanksgiving evening with his mother, aunts, uncles, and cousins. She had drank entirely too much and now had her seat reclined, laying back with her eyes closed while he, sober, drove the 40 miles back to their house.

It was a nice drive, flat, straight, open road with desert on either side. Out here away from the bust city he could see the many stars and the bright, full moon in the sky. He glanced at her again, not asleep, just resting. His eyes lingered on the hem of her mid-thigh skirt she was wearing (in Texas it was never too cold in November for this outfit), and roamed up her legs wondering what she wearing underneath.

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