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I was picking up a lady friend from an airport in Chicago many years ago. We had previously met in another city, far away in the land of the wet peach, and she was coming up to visit me for a weekend. It was winter, and Illinois was in the middle of a little blizzard. Our meeting in the airport was somewhat uncomfortable, as it often is after you've been intimate with someone, then separated by few hundred miles and a few weeks, and then you're back together. I didn't give her the old peck on the cheek, nor did I hold her hand on our way out of the airport. Apparently, that wasn't the reception she expected. Seeing as we weren't actually a "couple," yon pigglet didn't exactly act as though we were one.
On the two hour drive back to the pig sty, chatter led to talk which led to discussions, and it was disclosed that la femme had expected more heat, el pigglet had held back from some twisted perception of respect for personal boundaries. What luck! A simple misunderstanding. And man, was it snowing....look at all these cars pulled off on the side of the road. Perhaps we should pull over for a bit, see if visibility clears up.
Somehow, this led to my lady friend being buck naked (save for socks) on top of pigglet in the back of a Chevy Blazer on the side of Highway 57, when lo and behold little blue lights are seen on the mirror. What the? Faster than a..ummm...greased pig, is our heroic narrator diving into the front seat, throwing his jacket (what a cavalier gesture) over his companion, as the flashlight of our friendly man in blue raps on the passenger side window.
"No officer, everything is fine, we just couldn't see the road very clearly"
"Get rid of this asshole. You're not off the hook here buddy." comes the command from the back seat.
"Yeah, well um. Mr. Swine, you can't just stop on the side of the road. That's not legal. I'm going to have to ask you move along."
"Sorry officer, please don't arrest me, she's not kidnapped and she's not a hooker we'll um, just let me get this seat belt from around my neck, ahh better, we'll just get back on the road, sounds like a plan."
"You two drive safely I think I might fart myself to death trying not to laugh or castigate you silly fuckers, crazy perverts."
That was a fun drive home. The moment spoiled, but the memory preserved in pure gold. The girl (a crazy anarchist at heart) was telling everyone we met all weekend about the altercation. I think she would have loved to have repeated the entire thing if she could - then again, she was able to come to a degree of physical resolution during the event that sadly escaped yours truly.
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You don't love me, you just love my piggy style
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