"You want to sleep here?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Yeah. I was going to bunk outside but I'm scared shitless of thunder and it looks like rain. Then I thought of you." Dean figured it hadn't rained in Pagosa Springs in months but she began to spread out her sleeping bag in the narrow space next to him, nudging him closer to the side with her hip. "I won't be any bother and you're not married and all and we are adults. I mean, you don't have to do anything-we can just sleep, if you want to. 'Course if you want to ball, I got the Trojans if you've got the time." She laughed merrily and raised her arms in one motion, pulling up her t-shirt. Dean flipped off the flashlight just as he caught sight of two very attractive breasts.
"Look," he said in the darkness, "I really don't think we should..."
"Hey, it's cool-I know you're old and all. I understand. Sometimes I come on a little too strong-half the time I don't know myself if I'm kidding or serious. But I gotta tell ya it's great for relaxing the muscles. Just give me a nudge if you change your mind-I'm a light sleeper. Good night. And, hey, thanks for being so understanding."
Dean felt her wiggle out of her bike shorts and then turn to her side, facing him. He could smell her sweetness in the night air and her breath was only inches from him.
Dean sighed deeply, "You know, guys dream about this sort of thing," he said.
"So, let's dream a little!" He felt her warm arm on his bare chest.
Why not, indeed? It had been nearly a month of empty Thursday nights since his no-show session with Ethel Rosewater and the beautiful Betty from Boise was offering an effective way to make sure that embarrassment was a temporary happening. Still, he harbored misgivings about casual sex, and god knows this was as casual as it could get. He was suddenly not sure just how strong those misgivings were.
Just as Dean turned to kiss her, they both heard the distinct sound of a footfall outside the tent. There was the yellow movement of a flashlight much too close and Dean sat bolt upright, a frantic vision of Bob from Boise, or Hal the creep, or someone ready to avenge the chastity of a wife or sister. The zipper opened in one motion to reveal the lighted face of Fred O'Connor.
"Oh, sorry," Fred said. "I figured you were alone."
"Shit!" said Dean but when Fred didn't answer, he mumbled an introduction. "This is...Betty," and then added, "from Boise. My stepfather, Fred O'Connor...."