Utterly exhausted, I climb into the back seat, voluntarily giving up 'shotgun' to Rissa.
"Really? I really get to sit in the front?!?"
"Sleepy. So very, very sleepy." My mid-afternoon doze is kicking in, in a major way. Peri-menopause and thyroid disease make for insistent bedfellows.
One pillow is under my head, plus I've added a travel pillow around my neck to counteract any sudden jostling. Knees folded to my chest as my 5'6" body attempts to utilize every inch of space in the back seat. Windows are open as we hit the highway, airing out the car before the AC can effectively begin to cool anything.
The open windows are producing quite the breeze. It fills the car, ruffling clothing. I can feel it against my... nether regions? I glance down. My skirt, when I am bent into this particular pretzel-shape, doesn't allow for a lot of rear coverage. I'm basically bending over... sideways. My ass, clad in my cotton cheekinis, is pretty much on show for any car that might pass us.
"Ummmm... it seems that I am offering a peep show back here."
"Sorry, I can't help it. I should have worn pants, I guess. And perhaps visited the esthetician..." I try to shift to my back, but the geometry of it in our hatchback, combined with the wearing the lap part of the seatbelt makes it difficult. Eventually, I manage to put my feet against the window, but that just offers a greater view of my under-the-skirt goodies. In this position, any car to our right could give me a driveby gynecological exam.
"Pillow. I think I need an extra pillow, you know, for camouflage."
"No worries love," says David. "We're on two-lane roads for the first hour. When we hit the 401, I'll just make sure that we stay in the right hand land. NO problem!"
That's my husband... always looking out for my ass.