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It was only a very few more minutes before Steve stiffened and his body gave a series of involuntary spasms and my grateful mouth was filled with his now familiar cream.
With no ceremony whatsoever, other than Mike's offering Steve his right hand to pull him upright, and his offering me his left, we rolled up the blankets, slipped on our shorts, and got back in the truck; and soon we had rejoined the cars and trucks passing on I-80, some of whose occupants were still puzzling at what they had seen, or thought they had seen, or maybe had seen. In point of fact, miles down the road, but before full dark, occasionally we would be overtaken by a car whose driver had probably stopped for gas in Proctor or Oasis, and whose occupants recalled the distinctive rental truck trailing the midnight blue Porsche parked out on the desert near the highway, and they slowed up and stared up into the cab of the truck in wonderment.
