The residents of Hope call me reckless, dangerous, irresponsible. I'm a thrill-seeker, that's all; I like to push the boundaries. Picking up guys in bars, going down in an elevator, the mile-high club, I've done them all -- but like drugs, the edge wears off and the thrill gets dull.
Recently, though, I discovered the joys of dogging: anonymous, unprotected sex in the back of parked cars in out of the way parking lots, where names are never exchanged and everyone knows the rules of the game. Everyone, that is, except this guy in the gray Chevy -- he wanted it to get personal.
He was manipulating me one more time, but I needed to be sure of his direction, or he would arrange to protect himself – and I wouldn’t like the result. What he wanted was me gone, and nothing untoward to raise attention. “I can arrange my own disappearance after I leave Hope, to prevent any linkage to what happens and what happened here. In return, I would only ask that you not implicate me further.”
He smiled, just before he closed the deal his way.