Dusty leather and polished pearls.

She knew from the start this wouldn't end in happily ever after. He looked like trouble, from the first glance, all leather and denim. Good boys didn't dress like that, didn't move like that, damn sure didn't talk like that.

He pushed past her Southern belle exterior, past the pearls and polite yes Sir's, pushed down into the parts that made her wild, underneath that petticoat. Touched all the parts she pretended not to have.

Before the dust could settle under his well worn boots, he was gone. Leaving the imprint of his calloused hands on the soft white parts of her that never saw daylight. Leaving her wanting more, and vowing from then on, to only date Yankees in polo shirts.