Strangers

I've had it. "Get your hands off my ass, Dirk!" Everyone in the office stops to stare at me, my outburst having called way too much attention to the situation.Fuck, I'm not a damn piece of meat every Tom, Dick, and Harry can get their fill of. I've put up with my boss groping me every chance he gets for the last six months and no job is worth this, much less some damn minimum wage data entry gig that doesn't pay the bills. I have a Masters degree in Business Management and I'll be damned if I can find a job in this shit hole town, population nada."You crossed the line this time, Carpenter. Get your stuff. You're fired." His face is beet red, more from embarrassment than anger, but either way, my fate is sealed. I don't figure I have anything to lose at this point so I go for the jugular."I've crossed the line? Are you kidding me? I could own your ass and this company with all the shit you've pulled. You better be glad I haven't taken a notion to calling your wife or forwarding

There's something every woman should know about a Harley: when you're straddling the seat, pressed-even slightly-against the gas tank, and there's a gorgeous guy behind you, all of a sudden every bounce, every vibration, every bump in the damn road becomes erotic. For the record, every move of my hips against his legs seems to cause some arousal from behind as well. I can feel his cock hardening. Holy hell, I'm hyper-aware of his manhood pressing into my backside. I'm distracted, to say the least, and he's not wearing a helmet.As if he knows what I'm thinking, he points up ahead, although I don't see what he's pointing at, and I sure as hell can't hear him over the noise of the bike and the wind. As we approach an intersection, and I use that term very loosely, he motions for me to take a left. I figure what the hell, I don't have a destination in mind anyhow, so I go left.I follow his directions until we are in front of a small cabin perched on the upper end of Lake Keowee. He d

Lying in silence, neither of us feeling the need for unnecessary conversation, he turns his head to me. "I'm dying for some water. Can I get you something while I'm up?""Mmm. Water would be fantastic. Thank you." I smile genuinely at him. He's a sweet guy. It's too bad my inner slut muffin decided to pick him for a quickie. He probably would have made good relationship material.He returns with two bottles of ice-cold water, but before handing me mine, he rubs the bottom of it between my breasts, causing me to gasp from the sudden temperature change, then down my stomach, before nudging my legs apart, settling the bottle between my thighs. It feels good, refreshing in an odd way, but damn I'm thirsty, too.He opens the other bottle and hands it to me. I take a long swig while he continues to use the other bottle in his hand to massage my overused lady parts. It's not erotic but definitely intimate. Intimate in a tender way; he's not trying to arouse me, just take care of me.I

I'm terrified, plain and simple. It's an irrational fear, but a fear just the same, and it ravages me any time I enter an airport. It never fails: every time I fly, something always happens. My friends think I have adventures. I think it's hell-some of which I bring on myself, some out of my control.I'm embarking on my latest "adventure," driving to the Greenville Spartanburg Airport. My hands are clammy. Mentally, I run down a list of items I need to bring with me. Surely I've forgotten something. The closer I get, the heavier my breathing becomes, the more the paranoia takes hold. Exiting from the freeway, I take the long road, following the signs to long-term parking.Eventually, I'm at the security checkpoint. There must be two hundred people in line. The crowd heightens my anxiety, but I do my best to get through the line without losing my shit. People bump into me, and the TSA agent repeats the same instructions over and over again in a monotonous tone.I finally reach the

I search the sea of drivers waiting for their passengers as I come down the escalator, but I see no one holding a sign with "Waters" written on it, as I was told I would find. I wander the area but see no one as the hordes of passengers make their way to the different carousels. I stand there like an idiot trying to figure out what to do.Digging my cell phone out of my pocket, I call my corporate office to see if they can get in touch with the limo company and find out where my ride is."Trudy! Oh my gosh. I'm so glad I caught you before you left. Do you have a number for the limo service? I can't find the guy anywhere?"Standing in the middle of chaos, waiting for her to locate the number and call the company, a hand settles on my shoulder and startles the shit out of me. I jump, dropping my phone, and see my flight buddy next to me. I realize just how tall he actually is. He's close to a foot taller than I am, towering over me."You scared the crap out of me," I say to him a