Her boyfriend was huge, about six-six and all muscle. They had not watched

Rogers walk back here, mainly because they had been too busy exploring each

other’s mouths with their tongues.

 

When the bus pulled off, they separated lips and the man glanced over the seat

at Rogers with hostile eyes. Rogers looked back until the man glanced away. The

woman gazed back too and smiled. “Did you just get out?” she asked.

 

Rogers looked down at his clothes. It occurred to him that this must be

standard-issue garb for those leaving prison. Perhaps the correctional system

ordered the items in bulk, including shoes that were too small so the ex-cons

couldn’t outrun anybody. And maybe the bus stop was known to folks around here

as the “prisoners’ stop.” That would explain the looks he’d been given.

 

Rogers never thought to return her smile, but he did nod in answer to her query.

“How long were you in for?” In answer, Rogers held up all ten fingers.

 

She gave him a sympathetic look. “That’s a long time.” She crossed her legs so

that one long slender and bare limb was thrust out into the aisle, giving him an

admirable view of pale skin.

 

They rode for nearly an hour, the distance from the prison to the closest town.

All that time the high-heeled shoe dangled enticingly off the woman’s foot.

 

Rogers never once looked away.