Note: Based on a true story. Names, dates, places, and details have been changed for privacy.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Maybe the sun's light will be dim, and it won't matter anyhow. If morning's echoes say we've sinned. Well, it was what I wanted, now. And if we're victims of the night, I won't be blinded by the light.

Just call me Angel Of The Morning. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby.
Juice Newton.

September 1984.
San Gabriel mountains.
Southern California.

"Mmm. Ray, I wish we could stay like this... forever."

Tracy's lilting soprano breath on my bare stomach prompted a familiar stirring, and I considered stopping at a motel when we reached the Angeles Crest Highway's base. Softly ticking hands glowed one-fifteen am on my 1972 Buick Riviera's dashboard clock, plenty of time for a more comfortable pairing than we had just experienced in the car's expansive leather backseat.

I caressed her serene, pretty face in my lap as we cruised down from a four-thousand-foot elevation along the smoothly winding asphalt. A 1930's era marvel of civic engineering, the road's surveyors had probably not intended it as a destination for romantic trysts. Nonetheless, each year hundreds of young couples intimately enjoyed spectacular night views of the Los Angeles metropolis from countless turnouts and side trails.

Thirty minutes ago, in an isolated nook at the end of a narrow dirt track, Tracy and I had honored the highway's lusty tradition. Her alternating cries of passion and sorrow had sounded for me alone, aside from the vibrant wildlife which thrived in both snowy winters and the current hot, dry summer.

She might be up for another round, but I'm exhausted. Those two times with Alice almost wore me out, even before I picked up Tracy from our workplace a few hours ago...

While running my fingertips along her curled-up petite body, clad only in lacy bra and plain panties, a surprising impulse overwhelmed me. "Tracy, I..."

...love you. I feel like saying it to her. Do I actually mean it? She would almost certainly say it back, but then what?

Tracy looked up from my lap with hopeful brown eyes, the same huge ones which had captivated me two weeks ago when we first met. Her wide mouth eased into an infectious, toothsome smile, then she raised a tiny hand to my shirtless chest and responded, "Ray, I do, too."

Few things surprised me about Tracy anymore, so the idea that she possessed mind-reading abilities seemed entirely plausible. After all, she had knowingly led me to callously betray my best girlfriend ever, yet I still cherished her. That kind of power could be dangerous in a malicious woman, but Tracy seemed to have a pure, kind spirit.

And she loves me...

Considering the devastating cost of my affair with Tracy was something I had willfully avoided for the last two days, and I only needed to keep the guilt at bay for another hour before kissing her goodnight.

For the last time...

Instead, I stroked Tracy's thin, light-brown hair. With her short page-boy cut, it never became messy, even after my rough handling during our unforgettable sensual encounter.

I deeply inhaled, savoring the various wafting scents which formed lifelong memories.

Aromatic sap from thick pine forests outside the open car windows.

Tracy's strong cologne that she had "accidentally" spritzed on the passenger side headrest.

Most relevant, the still lingering, heady mixture of sweat, pheromones, and our commingled fluids.

Unconsciously, two fingers raised to my nose, delivering a fleeting whiff of Tracy's powerful, utterly feminine essence.

She's not traditionally sexy, but Tracy is all woman where it counts...

As we picked up speed, I closed the Riviera's power windows and turned on its air conditioner, reducing the powerful engine's throaty roar to a pleasant rumble. With the outside atmosphere banished, a raw smell of sex permeated my Buick's huge interior, invigorating me with the distinctly masculine sense of conquest.

A bittersweet conquest to be sure, tainted by the accurate realization that Tracy should actually claim the victory. I had merely supported it via an endless chain of poor decisions in reaction to her bold enticements.

Drowsy after a night of extreme emotions, Tracy settled into a lightly snoring sleep, allowing me to reflect on the brief time I had known her, and how the hell we had arrived at this unlikely moment.

Sweet Tracy. I'll always treasure our romance, but will you ever know just how much you fucked up my life?

Thanks for reading, don't forget to vote and comment!