The Coochie Diaries
he said, his smile back to its easy, public version, though his eyes still burned.
Clara stepped out of the van, her legs trembling. The suburban evening was perfectly normal. She took a lick of the cone. It was simple, plain. Nothing like what she’d just had.
As she walked away, she heard the van’s engine start. The music began to fade as he drove off. She touched her lips, still tasting salt, caramel, bourbon, and him. They were sticky kisses, sealed with a promise of melted treats and secrets in the back of a white van. She knew, with a thrilling certainty, that she’d be waiting on her balcony tomorrow.
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