It had been a year since I’d seen Hazel — six months in prison and six months running. We’d struck sparks from each other in the past. I had followed Hazel to her ranch, but now I wondered if it was over….
Finally she walked to my chair. She didn’t say anything. She took my hand and we went upstairs. Her bedroom was large and airy. She sat down and pulled off her boots.
I stood in the center of the floor and watched while she straightened up again and whisked the belt from her Levi’s. She skinned them down over her hips and kicked them to one side. Her panties followed, and from her socks to the bottom edge of her buckskin vest there was just Hazel.