She’d blown past us at the intersection. I looked out my window and shouted, but she didn’t hear. I told Flavio to speed up. We were on the way back from lunch, and now we sat stalled by a stop light. She was two cars ahead and one lane to the right. We couldn’t get her. Damn!
“She’s gorgeous, dude. You have to get up there so you can check on her,” I shouted. Before lunch I had said, “Should I bring my camera? In case we see anything happen during lunch?” He’d said yes. “Cool. You drive. I’ll shoot.” So I rode shotgun to Quizno’s.
Now we’re at the stop light. I’m shaking my head like a box of rice fidgeting. The camera! Yes. I reached back and unzipped it from its pouch and pulled it up. Cocked it, readied and focused. She cuts into our lane and turns left ah
Flavio jams on the gas, his Grand Cherokee rocking back in the passing gear. It was a race to catch up to her swift little car. “I hope that dude in the passenger seat isn’t in the way.” We swung up beside her. I was ready. I couldn’t see out the viewfinder. I just knew we were near. Is the speed right? Finally it was. We were dead even. “Okay, go go go!” Flavio shouted, and I snapped it.
We got two lookers. And they were none too pleased about being photographed. F them. We got they mugs. And I got proof that she’s hot as a Texas sidewalk. (In a wild Julia Roberts on coke kind of way.) But that’s okay, I’ve always been attracted to wild women. Click the picture to enlarge.