Our Rural Road
Usually, it was minor things at the mouth of the road. Collisions into the guardrail that mussed up a front fender and little else. The loud squeak of breaks and the cloud of white steam from burnt tire rubber and then maybe voices in dissent. Never the need for an ambulance.
...that if being a prostitute is just ‘sex work’ then why is it awkward if your manager at the local Starbucks offers you a raise for a blow job? It’s just work, right? “I’ll have a Chai Latte and a rim job. I’ll keep the tip.”