They sat in the two front bucket
seats with the gear shift between
them. Somehow they managed.

She wore a girdle and his hand
pressed eagerly against the warm,
wet material between her legs.

He thought to himself, Girdle?
Aren’t we beyond those days?
Why is she wearing a girdle?

The barrier remained, the wind-
ows fogged and the flashing
porch light glowed through the

fog. “That’s last call before they
go to bed,” she said. Then they
heard footsteps crunching the

snow just outside the front pass-
enger side door. Shocked and
scared, they stared at each other.

He opened the door and saw no
one in the midnight hour. He rush-
ed her to the door and they never

fogged the windows again. After
that, they moved inside when the
folks were gone and the girdle, too.