They made out like two highly hormonal teenagers in the backseat headed for her townhouse.
Clarice pulled her fur jacket tightly around herself as she got ready to exit the limo. The fog hung low in the night, and it had turned chilly. Her hair by now was loose around her shoulders, and she doubted she had any lipstick left on her mouth.
Marty exited the limo and extended his hand to help her to the sidewalk.
As she came close, her lips brushed his ear and she whispered, "Tell the driver he can go now. You won’t need a ride home."