Sure enough, 15 minutes later, a tow truck arrived, and the driver started hooking up my car to be towed. He was a big guy, with a full beard…not ba... looking…wearing dirty jeans and a flannel shirt. Pretty much the exact picture you have in your head when you conjure up the image of a tow truck driver.As he worked on all the connections for towing my car, it became pretty obvious that he couldn’t keep his eyes off me, and…more specifically…my chest.This made perfect sense, since I’m an. " "Suits you, you know." "The shit?" "Yes. A good reminder. Underneath all beauty there's a bunch of shit." "When did you pick up awful poetry?" He chuckled. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He rose, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. She slipped on the shoes and picked up her bag. He took the dish with him, idling watching it as they strolled back inside. Whatever he'd be doing with it later did not bear thinking about. Maybe he had a collection somewhere, somewhere his wife. More

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