The nose of the Mustang was right up against the barrier that separated the scenic overlook from the Pacific Ocean thirty feet below, providing a 360 degree view of paradise, only the sounds of the surf below and the gulls circling above for company. With the top down it was as good as sitting on the barrier itself only more comfortable.
I unwrapped my Italian sandwich reeking with garlic, onions, peppers, provolone, prosciutto, and salami, all good things not to be eaten in company, and took a huge bite, relishing the chunk of pepper it included.
He came around the barrier, rising up out of the steep slope of scrub brush, and vaulted over the passenger door with ease, sliding right in beside me, leaning close over the console. His right hand slid under my shirt, something cold pressing between my breasts.
“Kiss me,” he said, sliding his left hand around my shoulders. “This is a knife. I will use it if I have to.” He tapped the blade against my chest.
Stunned beyond belief, I opened my mouth and pushed the chunk of garlic laden sandwich to the forefront between my teeth.
He laughed out loud, surprising both of us. “Chew first, and swallow”.