Pete and Megan need to find out... is either one of them a lesbian?

We found a room at the first motel, and Megan paid for it with a credit card, forty dollars plus tax and a city fee. I tried not to wince. I didn’t have that much money on me, and I didn’t have a credit card.

“Third cabin, second door,” said the clerk with no curiosity at all. We made our way along the walkway between slender evergreen sugar pines and rose bushes that had begun to lose their leaves.

The door opened on a typical motel room for the area, two regular-size beds, a dresser holding a television, two night tables, a vanity table and a chair. Two doors on the back wall opened into a bathroom and a walk-in closet. A through the wall heat-pump could both cool and warm the room.

I fiddled with the thermostat, setting it to 72°F while Megan explored the bathroom. “Clean enough,” she pronounced, “but they have one of those one-lever shower controls. I hate those.”

I nodded, then realized I was staring at her from a position near the door—like I might be planning on running away. I tried to relax. I took off my coat and tossed it on one of the beds....