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and followed the lake shore road to a small motel that obviously catered to fishermen. The late August sun was just beginning to dip behind two craggy outcroppings off of Tacker Point when we finally stopped. |
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The young man behind the desk was tall and too slender, with long wavy red-brown hair parted down the middle. He had haunting, deep-set brown eyes that peered out from their hiding place under a prominent ridge that traversed the width of his forehead. He was the possessor of a full, sensuous mouth that seemed somehow to be curved into a permanent pout, and his unusual clothes hung straight down much like they would from a wire hanger. On balance, and I hate to use this word in describing a man, he was "beautiful." He eyed Brenda with a peculiar kind of envy. |
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"Any rooms left in the inn?" I chirped. |
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The young man nodded without uttering a word and pushed an old-fashioned desk ledger across the surface at me. |
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"I'll need two rooms," I announced, louder than necessary. I had no intention of giving anybody an excuse to call me a lecher. Actually, I've known a lot of couples with a greater age disparity than my traveling companion and yours trulybut that was their problem, not mine. |
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Our silent and sullen desk clerk produced two keys, laid them on the registration desk and promptly disappeared behind a draped |
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