Henry insisted on driving. He didn't enjoy being a passenger in any situation. Almost bragging about it, as if he defined his masculinity that way. It was the fifth hour of him driving since the last gas stop, and he was starting to get tired, and consider passing the driving over to one of the others.
The scenery was beyond repetitive, and the conversation falling off, as the heat worked on the passengers, making them drowsy and unresponsive. Each billboard was a break in the monotony, and every flyspeck town a delight to the eyes.
But, one in particular caught his attention. 'Restful Reservation', a bimbo reserve. For those who'd converted and found things weren't as expected. These failed bimbos in Henry's mind were trying to establish a new community, free from the expectations of others.
Henry knew, just knew they only needed to find the right man, who could stoke and satisfy their appetites.
He turned the car off the main road, and headed down the road to investigate. The mumblings and mutterings weren't coherent, as no-one actually answered, Henry's perfunctory question, about a detour.
If his friends drowsed through this diversion, Henry at least could get out, stretch his legs, and take a coffee break. It was a win-win situation in Henry's mind. A chance to wake-up properly, get some fresh air... and enjoy some spectacular feminine scenery.
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