Sarah cruised to a stop in the parking lot. The gravel crunched underneath the tires of her car. She touched the screen of her navigational computer. Lines streaked across it, and then it went black. Across the parking lot, she surveyed a diner. Once upon a time, the stainless steel restaurants served the masses along every highway and interstate road. Now it was a dinosaur left over from a bygone era. She grabbed her purse from off the seat and exited her car. Upon standing, she picked at her black silk panties through her jeans.
They formed a wedgy between her butt cheeks. At 19, she was still at that age when girls dressed to impress complete strangers. The ravages of age and apathy belonged to her mother's generation. Despite what one might think, the desert can be quite cool during the winter.
She buttoned her denim jacket and crossed her arms. The sunlight mixed with a cool breeze to form an odd mixture of hot and cold. The gusty wind blew her long brown tresses across her face. She brushed them behind her right ear and shivered. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a cluster of motorcycles. A red flag popped up in her brain. However, her bladder was full and demanded attention. She sprung onto the sidewalk, and threw open the glass door. A bell chimed and heralded her entrance.
She paused in the doorway and surveyed the interior. It was what one might expect, except for the women in leather.
They occupied the booths to her right and left. A few lingered on stools at the counter. Although none of the women looked directly at her, she could feel their attention focused on her. She hurried past them and into the ladies restroom. Unlike men who can pee standing, an attribute she greatly envied at this moment, she had to squat. She unhitched her jeans and tugged them down along with her panties. Her bottom hovered above the toilet seat, not wishing to touch it.
