“They hated you. Well, the girls hated you.” Joe grinned at me as he drove the long, straight road.
“Yeah, they’re awful. Bunch of… fucking… amateurs. I mean, literally, they fuck like amateurs.” I smiled at him and he grinned wider. “They don’t have you to practise on, I guess.” His hand, resting on my thigh, suddenly wasn’t resting any more. “Ow!” Then, “Oh!” Then “Ooooh!”
He laughed again, loving me more every day and I loved him back with everything I had.

We drove over a bump in the road.
“Ooof.”
“What?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“No biggie, but you’re going to have to pull over. I can’t fix this while we’re driving.”

After a couple of miles, we stopped and I shuffled around in my seat before reaching down and producing a long, slender, lurid pink item with a suction base, smelling of rubber and me. I stuck it to the windshield between us, poked my feet out the window and laid my head on his shoulder.

“You have no shame.” He laughed and drove on, the blood-red sun sinking slowly behind us.