“Well, what are you waiting for?” she said almost robotically as she lay back, propping herself up by her arms behind her.

“No, no…I’m not here for that,” he stammered, looking at her. As he drew closer he could see her fully, blinking behind two large eyes and a peaches and cream complexion and a waterfall of dark hair. She was like a living breathing doll. He stopped breathing for a moment. He didn’t know that these girls were so pretty. He had expected a much older woman, bleached hair, red lipstick with a cigarette dangling from her mouth that coughed out raspy words from wrinkled lips.

She gave him a worried glance, and edged back a little.

“You aren’t going to kill me are you? They always warn me about this, I mean, this is dangerous country out here in the middle of nowhere desert, you know.” He could see she was inching her hand slowly to the bedside table. He hoped that she didn’t have a bowie knife stashed out somewhere.

“No, please,” he began. “Really, I’m not even going to touch you.”