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by the headlights, he folded his arms across his chest and waited as she entered the narrow space between the two cars. He was only about ten feet away from her. Unsure of what to do next, she folded her hands in front of her and looked down. "Okay," he said. "I want you to put your left foot on that white line in front of you. You see it?" She looked down. There was indeed a faded white line there, possibly to mark the shoulder during some long ago construction project. She put her foot on it but did not look up. "Now put your right foot in front of the left, so the heel is against the toe. See?" He assumed the awkward position from his place in front of the car. She followed his instructions, still not looking up. "Look at me," he said. "Now I want you to walk over here, heel to toe, until I tell you to stop." She took two steps toward him before dropping her eyes again. "Look at me, I said." She looked up and in another two steps found that she was raising her arms like a child trying to balance on a curb. She wondered from a place far away in her mind if children even did that anymore. "Put your hands back down," he said. She took another few steps and found herself close enough to the car to see dust dancing in the beams of the headlights. He unfolded his arms, leaning back to rest those big hands squarely on the hood of the car. She took another step then, dragging the toe of her right foot around in a half circle until it was just in front of her left. Then she repeated with the other foot, swinging her hip around. His chest lifted with a deep breath that might have been a sigh of bored impatience or something else altogether. "All right," he said. "You can stop and --" But she did not stop. She kept coming toward him, tracing a half circle in one direction, then the other, until she was right in front of him. The headlights froze the two of them there on the side of the road in the blackness of night. The police car was still running. As she stopped, the fan kicked on, and she could smell the heat of the engine. Her hand moved up and up and over in front of her eyes. She saw her fingers come to rest on his chest. She could feel the smooth surface of his uniform, the slight friction as she spread her fingers out across his broad chest. He felt hard and very warm under the shirt, and she could feel the beat of his heart, regular but rapid, there under her hand. She looked up at him, finally able to see his eyes under the hat. His eyes were the color of a robins egg beneath sand-colored brows. His face was smooth and unlined, but at this distance she could see


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the faint halo of razor stubble on his face. She did not know state troopers could be so young. She realized that the tip of her tongue was on her own upper lip. Deep inside her, she felt a carefully banked heat begin to swell as her sex grew warm and ready. "You think Im drunk?" She did not recognize her voice. It was a low, sultry voice that belonged to another woman altogether. This new woman did not drive herself home from work at this hour. This womans husband would not be asleep when she got home. All alone on the side of the road in the dark, this woman could do whatever she wanted with this man, Trent. She could claim him and possess him in every way that a woman could claim and possess a man. Trents eyebrow rose sharply under the hat, and the corner of his mouth lifted. He was smiling a little. It was an amused, curious look. But he did not move. He didnt move at all. "Yes," he said. "I think youre drunk." Her hand slid down his chest a little, not quite to his stomach, and then came back up again, stroking him. She flattened her palm against him and steadied herself there as she went up on tiptoe, rising until her face was roughly level with his. When he did not move or protest, she slid her face along his, relishing the feel of five oclock shadow against her smooth cheek. She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of his mouth. "What if I can convince you that Im not?" she asked. He turned his face ever so slightly toward her. The look of amusement was gone. For just a flash of time, Jens rational mind reasserted itself to remind her that she was a frumpy woman in Keds trying to seduce a state trooper on the side of the interstate. "Go back to your car," he said. "Turn off the lights. Do not leave. Wait for me." She lowered herself away from him without a word and returned to her car. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved, and her other self, so long forgotten, slowed down and tried to roll her hips beneath the floral skirt. Other-Jen knew Trent was watching her because she did not hear him move as she returned to the car. Jen got back into the car and turned off the lights. She unplugged the cell phone from the charger, and then opened it to see if there were any missed calls. She didnt know why she thought Charles would suddenly have called her while she was making a bold sexual overture to a state trooper who had pulled her over for DUI. But now she knew that Charles had not called after all. She turned the phone off and put it into her purse. Trent rapped on her window again. When she looked up, she could see his hand gesturing at her to get