Thank god for small favors. Sometimes it pays to be sloppy. She took the towel, folded in crosswise, and wrapped it around her head. I look like an ol... Jewish mother, she thought, and took it off, opened it back up, and wrapped it snuggly around her head once more. Better. As she gazed out at the fury of snow and wind as it assaulted her poor, dead car, she began to have second thoughts. Isn’t this how people die? Hyper—no, hypothermia, I think. With a blizzard like this, they probably wouldn’t. Your skirt is hiked up some, pulled tight against your shape as you struggle to retrieve a checkbook. When you brace a hand against the dash, I am treated to the alluring shift and wiggle of your breasts as they press against your shirt. They are shifting and swaying as you mutter curses at purses, men and life in general. Your balance slips. You stretch to adjust, which pulls your skirt up more. This affords me a nice look at your purple silk garter belt where it clips onto your lace-topped. More

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