When she heard the shower start, Susan walked over to the end-table where the phone was. She didn’t really have anyone to call, no husband, no girlfriend. So she figured she might as well try to ring the garage. She figured they’d be closed, but was hoping to get a machine.

The phone was propped up on a very old directory dated 1995/1996. Luckily, Rollie didn’t live in much of a town, and as a consequence it was home to only one garage, Gary’s Garage. As expected the garage was closed, but she was able to leave a message.

“Hello, my name is Susan White. I blew a tire on the interstate, right past mile marker 181. I need a tow and my tire replaced. I’ll be at Rollie’s place, the number is…,” glancing down she saw the number in the middle of the dial “…427-1212. Thanks.”

She had just put down the phone the receiver of the phone when she heard “Better. Need another beer Susan,” Startled she turned around to find herself looking a very scantily clad Rollie.

“Sweet Jesus, that’s not all I need,” she whispered under her breath, looking Rollie up and down. Rollie sure did clean up real nice. His hair was quite tussled from a quick towel dry. He hadn’t done a good job drying it; little drops of water were intermittently dripping from the tips of his hair, beading on his neck and shoulders. For a second she envisioned herself walking over to him and licking the drops right off his neck.

“Um yes, please, another beer would be great,” she said, meeting his gaze. Rollie turned on his heel, walked to the fridge, and grab them each a beer.

“HHHMMM-UUMM,” thought Susan, “he looks as good from the back as he does from the front.” Rollie walked back to where she was standing to hand her the beer.

He was standing so close to her that Susan could smell the fragrance of soap left on his skin from his shower. She looked down, to take the beer from his hand, and noticed Rollie had a thick scar that extended from his side, arched down across his belly, and then dipped out of site underneath the towel he had tucked around his hips. Instead of taking the beer, Susan reached out her hand and she touched his scar. She traced her finger along the scar ever so lightly until her finger rested on the lip of his towel.

“How’d you get this?” she asked, looking up into his steel-blue eyes for the second time that night.