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Tabitha flips an unruly wisp of auburn hair out of her eyes as she applies the final touches of mascara. A quick pass with ruby lipstick and she steps back to check the mirror one last time before officially declaring that she’s ready to go. The blue eyed, auburn haired knockout returning her gaze from the bathroom vanity mimics her smile to confirm there is no ruby lipstick on dazzling white, perfectly aligned teeth. At thirty-three, her figure is, if anything, better than when she played Division I tennis at UT. Basically the same, but maybe a little fuller up top. She smiles at herself for keeping in shape while most of her sorority sisters have “blossomed” into elastic waistbands and one-piece swimsuits. 

She turns to check the curve of her butt in the snug, form fitting, little black evening dress. The dress is strapless, short but not slutty, with an elegant cut. She smooths the fabric beneath her well-proportioned breasts and silently confirms the appropriate amount of cleavage. Perfect. She knew it would be, but the official statement of being ready cannot be made without completing the final inspection.

Leaving the bathroom, Tabitha feels powerfully sexy in her little black dress and matching knee-length leather boots. Silk panties hug her hips with a sensual friction. At 5’7”, the heels of her boots put her almost eye to eye with her 6’1’’ husband, Taylor.

“Hey, I’m ready,” she calls down the hallway ahead.

Taylor is absently thumbing the TV remote from a leather recliner in the den when Tabitha enters the room. He barely notices her entrance but finally pulls his gaze away from the sports news just long enough to mumble a token compliment on her appearance before slipping on his shoes and grabbing his sport coat from the back of his chair.

There is little conversation in the car. Taylor is oblivious to the perfect, bare thighs in the passenger seat next to him. Instead, he watches the road and taps his fingers on the wheel to the beat of an old 80’s song wafting from the stereo.

Tabitha squirms slightly in her seat, intentionally allowing her dress to ride up a little. She subtly parts her thighs just enough to allow a peek at the aqua panties she bought yesterday. Stealing a sidewise glance at her husband, she realizes the effort is lost on him. It’s not that he’s not attracted to her. She knows he is. Not that he doesn’t adore her. She knows he does. But, after eight years of marriage, to say they have hit a slump sexually would be an understatement.

Slightly frustrated, but not quite annoyed, Tabitha readjusts in her seat and pulls the hem of her dress back down to its intended coverage area. Her thoughts turn to the office mixer she’ll spend the next couple of hours suffering through. She knows very few of Taylor’s co-workers and likes even fewer. Most are stuffy and uptight. The kind of crowd that works very hard to project a level of wealth and sophistication that few, if any, will ever really achieve. Nothing more pompous than a group of people who almost have money. Truthfully, most of them are living paycheck to paycheck like everyone else, just making slightly bigger payments on slightly nicer toys.

The thought does little to improve her mood so she turns to stare out the window and daydream a little. Mostly random thoughts and memories bouncing through her head and filling the forty-five minute drive with distraction from what will likely be a wasted evening.

Taylor turns the leased Lexus into the hotel parking lot and finds a spot near the entrance. The party started almost an hour ago. From the looks of the mostly empty lot, Tabitha gathers, most everyone else is going to be a little more fashionably late than they are.

Inside, Tabitha takes Taylor’s arm and puts on her best “Miss America” smile and prepares to make the rounds. Immediately upon entering the large, plush lobby, they are greeted by Thomas and Rene Stines. They are a friendly enough couple but somehow annoying. The kind of people who you feel bad for trying to avoid, but make every effort to avoid none-the-less.

Thomas is a dumpy little guy who works in the sales department. Possibly the assistant something-or-other to the vice-pubah? Tabitha can’t keep all the trumped up titles straight, but basically she knows he’s a member of upper-middle management who has found his final rung.

Rene is an aging realtor/ trophy wife who was likely not much of a trophy in her twenties. Grapevine reports vary slightly but she has an affinity for Vodka and either sleeping pills, Valium, or prescription anti-depressants, depending on the source you choose to believe. Her dress code is more appropriate to a twenty year old (if the specific twenty year old was a hooker) than a real estate agent in her late forties.

Famous for over-the-top cubic zirconia jewelry and causing some type of drunken scene at nearly every office function, Tabitha muses that greeting the Stines and getting them out of the way early is actually a dubious stroke of luck.

“Hey girlie!!! So glad you guys came,” Rene is absently clinking ice cubes in what Tabitha strongly suspects is not her first empty Vodka-tonic of the evening.

“So good to see you, too,” Tabitha has perfected the fake sincerity routine and warmly greets Rene with a sideways hug and secretly hopes that neither of Rene’s first generation DD implants spills from her size C spaghetti-strap dress.

Taylor and Thomas stiffly shake hands and exchange strained opinions on the prospects of various local football teams. The conversation goes nowhere and once an acceptable amount of time has ebbed by, Taylor begs out of the awkward scenario by inviting Tabitha to the bar for a drink.

At the bar, Taylor orders a dry martini for himself and a Tequila Sunrise for Tabitha. The first sip of her drink suggests that the bartender must have a huge surplus of tequila but must be running low on sunrise. The alcohol warms her immediately and, being somewhat of lightweight, she makes a mental note to sip slowly.

Tabitha is acutely aware of the silence between herself and her husband. She wants to say something but can think of nothing relevant they have not already discussed to the point of boredom. Is there such thing as knowing someone too well? The lack of conversation is at the same time more comfortable and more disconcerting than the awkward lull with the Stines they ducked away from.

Once again frustration sets in and Tabitha resigns herself to silently sipping her drink and watching the lobby as more over-dressed, self-important couples lazily trickle in. She amuses herself by observing the repetitive cycle of unwary guests being immediately cornered by the Stines. From this outsider’s perspective, she giggles internally as the detainees do their best to find a pressing issue that must be tended somewhere on the other side of the room. Poor Stines. Probably the only couple in the entire building that actually looks forward to these damned things and everyone avoids them like herpes at a swingers’ convention.

Herpes at a swinger’s convention. Good one. The alcohol is taking effect way too early. Just as Tabitha is about to share the thought with Taylor, he sees Arlen Paige and Mrs. Paige come in from an outside gazebo area.

“Hey Tabs, there’s Arlen. I better go say hi to Debbie or I’ll never hear the end of it. You good here?”

“I’m fine,” Tabitha smiles a little over-the-top and exaggerates the “Miss America” routine.

“Sorry, I won’t be long if I can help it. You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like,” he puts on his own phony smile and exaggerates a beckoning motion, as if he were Mickey Mouse exclaiming,” C’mon Pluto!!”

“Ha-ha…no thanks. I’ll hold the bar up ‘til you get back,” Tabitha replies. The only thing worse than being ditched alone at the bar would be suffering through yet another of Arlen’s dry dialogues over the direction of Paige Inc., or one of Debbie Paige’s dissertations on the importance of the woman running the household. Nice enough people, but the world has passed their generation by. Not to mention, at some point very soon, the conversation will move to the nearest smoking area where miserable underlings get the added misery of swishing hazy, blue clouds of cigarette smoke away from their faces while pretending to hear this story or that for the first time.

Tabitha drains the last of her Tequila Sunrise and orders another. Poor Taylor, she thinks, He’ll be stuck for the next hour dodging smoke of one kind or another. Come to think of it, poor Tabitha. First time in recent memory I’ve had an evening out and I get all dressed up to sit in a hotel bar alone for most of it. Wow, sure glad I wasted this dress on the Paige Inc. fall mixer…maybe I should get some new pumps for my next trip to Wal-Mart.

She chuckles audibly at the last thought and the bartender cocks a wary eyebrow her way. Luckily, he is distracted by a waitress with a drink order before he has a chance to come over and ask too many questions. What is it about bartenders that make them the only people on the planet that actually believe the old stereo-types about people telling their deepest, darkest secrets to a minimum wage worker whose necessary skills set basically involves the ability to…pour?

Bored with the Stine’s show, Tabitha turns back toward the bar and absently stirs her second drink. She tries to remember the last time she had a third. College? Surely not. The wedding? Yeah. Three glasses of wine and a champagne toast at the wedding. Eight years? This realization coupled with the tequila already on board practically makes the decision for her. I’m getting drunk.

Before the thought is fully formed, she is placing the recently drained tumbler back on the bar and trying desperately not to cough. Or puke. Okay, she thinks while a fit of uncontrollable coughs jump from her still burning throat, three quarters of a glass of mostly tequila in one gulp wasn’t the best idea, but I’m on a mission.

Reaching across the bar for a napkin to dab the tears from her eyes, Tabitha nonchalantly waves the bartender’s attention to the empty glass. Its replacement soon arrives and the sipping strategy is re-instated, but without quite the stringent speed restrictions.

“This seat taken?” The deep, husky voice is startling, but vaguely familiar.

Tabitha turns to see a familiar face smiling at her.

“Steven!” Her smile is genuine this time and Miss America almost forgotten, “where is Lori?”

“Couldn’t make it. She’s in Austin taking depositions, again.”

“So you get to come to the fall mixer stag, huh? You must be extra thrilled.” Tabitha is suddenly aware of a disturbing numbness in her lips and tongue that taper her enunciation just slightly…not quite a slur, but she wonders how far she is from sounding like Thhhhylvethster the Puthy Cat.

“Yeah, sometimes I can’t believe my luck. Where’s Taylor?”

“Had to toddle off to entertain Arlen and Debbie. Probably stuck out in the smoker’s lounge all night.”

Steven wrinkles his nose in disgust, “Where do I get in line not to do that?”

“Right here. Just stick with me and I’ll protect ya,” Tabitha giggles slightly at her own joke.

Steven chuckles knowingly, “yeah, well I don’t think I’m in quite as much danger as Taylor. Debbie never quite latched onto me the way she did him. And Arlen thinks I’m too… unpredictable, I think was the term he used.”

“Good ol’ predictable Taylor,” she hears the acid in her voice and realizes it’s a little too obvious. Damned tequila. You’re husband’s best friend probably isn’t the best outlet to vent your frustrations on.

Sincere concern crosses Steven’s brow, “Everything okay with you two?”

“Yes… No… I don’t know… There’s really nothing that’s not okay…just hasn’t been much that’s better than okay lately either.” Wow. Tequila really has a way of bypassing the whole, who-you-should-vent-to filter doesn’t it?

“It happens. Lori and I have been in the same kind of ditch lately. Schedules don’t line up and when, by some miracle mistake they do, we seem to have forgotten what to do with the time we do have together.” He waves the bartender over and orders a beer.

While his attention is on the bartender, Tabitha spends a brief moment taking in the impressive male figure on the stool next to hers. She has always found Steven attractive. In that big-brother kind of way. But (and it probably has much to do with the unfamiliar level of alcohol in her system) right now, there is something about him that stirs a more primal sense of attraction.

He is tall, 6’3’’or so. Lean but not skinny. Built more like a defensive back than a basketball player. Sandy blonde hair showing just a hint of pre-mature gray. Blue-grey eyes. Muscular but not bulging. Very ruggedly handsome. A stark contrast to Taylor’s GQ, metro-sexual kind of good-looking, but very sexy. Very sexy.

Beer in hand, Steven turns back to the conversation. He holds the bottle eye level in a mock toast, “To the fall mixer.”

She clinks her half-full Tequila-hold-the-Sunrise with his beer and replies with exaggerated false reverence, “the fall mixer.”

In an attempt to lighten the subject, Tabitha cocks an eyebrow and asks, “Didn’t get the memo on the dress code?”

In contrast to the suit-and-tie norm of the other guests, Steven has chosen faded jeans, an un-tucked white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled nearly to the elbow and the top buttons undone, well-worn leather cowboy boots, and a pair of Oakley sunglasses perched on his head. In addition, two days’ stubble along his jaw gives him the look of a man in transition from clean-cut executive to wandering ranch hand. Hovering somewhere between Wall Street broker and the Marlboro Man. Very Matthew McConaugheyesque.

“The day they pay me to come to one of these, they can tell me what to wear. Until then, I’m off duty and so are my friggin’ ties. Besides, I’d hate for the old man to think I’m becoming predictable,” he winks at her knowing they share a basic disdain for the Paiges, not present in most of the guests.

“Hmm, aren’t we the rebel?” There is a fluttering in her stomach that she can’t be sure of. Might be the early tremors that promise a fun night of drunken toilet diving. Could be the first tingles of desire. Best take another generous sip to help research the possibilities.

“C’mon. You know me better than that. Just don’t like these stupid things. Really don’t like being expected to make a token appearance. I spend enough of my life in that building without cluttering what’s left ‘meeting and greeting’ people I intentionally avoid at all costs, all week long.”

An uncontrolled, laugh bursts forth from Tabitha that is a little too loud and a little too long. A little awkward. Way awkward is the pronounced snort that follows. Embarrassment. The bartender glances over with a wary eye.

Steven regards her with an inquisitive glance, “Tabitha Gaines, are you drunk?”

“’Fraid so. But just a little. I’ll be fine,” she hopes the lie is more plausible on his end than hers. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere. I have to powder my nose.”

“Sounded like you might need to oil it too,” he chuckles.

She leans in to keep from being heard by any of the others in the bar, “You’re such an ass sometimes, but I still love ya.”

Steven watches her meander off toward the general direction of the ladies room. In the fifteen or so years he’s known her this is the first time he’s ever seen her drunk. Taking a slug from his Miller Lite bottle, he can’t help but admire her firm, round bottom as she heel-toes through the bar, carefully navigating tables and a few scattered guests.

He pops up from the stool and tosses a ten on the bar. Crosses the lobby and finds the outdoor smoker’s patio and stands at the glass waving to Taylor to get his attention. Finally Taylor catches sight of him and graciously excuses himself from one of Mr. Paige’s long-winded stories.

The door slides open and Taylor extends a hand with a broad smile painted on his face. They clasp hands and share a combination handshake/one-sided, guy hug.

“Didn’t know if you’d show. Glad to see ya Steven.”

“Wasn’t going to come, but didn’t really have anything better to do and figured I’d get my appearance out of the way so I can bail on the next one. How’s it going in there?”

Taylor rolls his eyes and glances back over his shoulder at the pitiful crowd surrounding Arlen Paige’s table, “You know, same old bullshit. But, someone has to humor him. Tabitha is in the bar if you wanna say hi.”

“Yeah, already talked to her. That’s what I’m here for actually. If it’s cool with you I’m gonna take her home. She’s drunk and I really don’t wanna see her do something to brand her as the next Rene Stine. Know what I mean?”

“Drunk? Tabitha? Wow. You don’t have to do that. I can take her home if it’s that bad,” Taylor is visibly concerned.

“No stay. I don’t mind, really. These things ain’t exactly my deal anyway and it’s a good excuse to slide outta here. And I wouldn’t say she’s exactly bad right now, but I think she’s bored and if she stays much longer and keeps drinking it could get that way.”

“Well, thanks Stevie. I owe you one. Call me if she’s worse than you thought and I’ll come on home.”

“No problem. Glad to do it actually. Tell everyone ‘hi’ for me. Mainly just slip in the fact that I was actually here somewhere in the conversation.”

Taylor laughs, “Will do bud. Let’s play a round of golf next week.”

“Sounds great. Just gimme a shout. Now get back in there and dazzle ‘em. Debbie looks lonely,” Steven winks to accentuate the jab. It’s actually a return volley for Taylor calling him “Stevie”. He’s hated the nickname since grade school but Taylor seems to relish in twisting that knife every time he gets the chance.

“I thought you’d left me to drink alone again,” Tabitha teases as Steven returns to the bar.

“Nope. I got us a ‘get outta jail free card’. Talked to Taylor and told him I’m taking you home. So, unless you’d rather hang out with the Stines and the rest of these nimrods, I suggest we pay your tab and get the hell out of here before they decide to come in for a drink and we get cornered in here with the Paiges and their brown-nosing entourage.”

“Agreed!” Tabitha pops up and digs through her purse for a twenty.

***

“You gotta slam it. Need to fix that,” Steven coaches Tabitha on the nuances of his mostly restored ’67 Chevy step side pick-up as she slides onto the bench seat.

“Honestly Steven, what exactly do you have against driving something that wasn’t born before we were?”

“Aw, c’mon Tabitha, newer cars don’t have any character….besides, if I didn’t have a couple of these old jalopies around to tinker with I’d never have anything better to do than attend lame-assed company mixers and what-not…If I’d known I was going to have to haul your drunk ass home, I would have brought the Hummer. It has air conditioning and FM on the radio.”

“First of all, I think my drunk ass fits quite nicely in here, don’t need some over-grown Jeep to ‘haul it around’, thank you very much, secondly, lame-assed mixers suck way worse than your little tinker-toy projects. Thank you for the rescue.”

A horrified look passes over Steven, “I uhhm…hey, I didn’t mean I needed a bigger truck to haul you’re ass…I just meant newer…your ass is…I mean, I didn’t mean…dammit, your ass is awesome and stop messin’ with me!!”

Tabitha giggles as he squirms under the pressure of the faux misunderstanding. She catches Steven’s gaze lingering too long on her toned, tanned, freshly waxed, tennis player’s legs. Pretending not to notice, she decides not to adjust the dress and leaves a little more leg showing than would be considered completely “proper” in some circles.

The conversation during the drive is relaxed and natural. The way it should be with old friends. Nostalgic reminiscing and weekend plans fill the miles as they make their way to the Gaines’ home.

Tabitha is acutely aware that Steven cannot go more than a few seconds at a time without taking his eyes off the road to enjoy a quick peek at her stunning thighs, ample breasts, or at least flashing a quick smile in her direction. The fluttering returns deep in her belly but this time she is more certain of its origin. Mainly because a dull ache within her soft, silken, aqua panties now accompanies the fluttery warmth growing in her belly.

Tabitha shifts in the seat, mimicking the fruitless move she tried earlier with Taylor. Unlike Taylor, Steven immediately takes notice of the aqua panties now barely visible in the dim light from the dash instrument panel. She can feel his eyes roaming her body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but knowing he likes what he sees is exciting. Too little has been exciting lately. She decides to tease him a little. It’s mean and Steven certainly doesn’t deserve it, but dammit, she deserves a little attention and she’s going to get it.

Pretending to be oblivious to the vulgar amount of skin showing from beneath her dress, she turns and rotates a little toward Steven and parts her thighs ever so slightly. For the first time she imagines Steven running his hand up her thigh, cautiously testing the waters at first, then when she doesn’t resist, allowing his fingers to slide inside her panties and explore her soft, moist folds.

The thought intensifies the fluttering and Tabitha is vaguely aware that she has begun to imperceptibly grind against the leather seat. The slight movement produces a feint friction between the silk panties and her now fully engorged clit. The dull ache has blossomed to near desperate levels and if Steven weren’t in the cab next to her she would slide a finger down her panties and take care of the itch. For now, though, she will have to settle for the caress of silk panties and less subtle stimulation of road vibrations from the old truck.

Steven takes his eyes off the road for longer periods now. Maintaining his concentration on the road and the conversation is becoming more difficult. His view up her dress is addictive and the thought of what lies beneath the sheer silk intoxicates him. Low level pangs of guilt jar his eyes back to the road. That’s your best friend’s wife. She’s drunk and doesn’t realize her pussy is on display. You’re taking advantage of her. Stop it…On the other hand, it’s a long drive and who the fuck’s gonna know?

Tabitha shifts again, this time moving forward a little in the seat. This shift has nothing to do with Steven’s view of her panties and everything to do with ratcheting them tighter against her clit. She has worked herself into a burning need now. The shift works and she feels the fabric wedge between her buttocks and slide into her crease. A shock of sensation jolts her momentarily as she again begins to slowly articulate her hips forward and back, effectively masturbating against the seat and her silken underwear.

An idea strikes her as the Chevy approaches a roadside convenience store, “Can we pull over up here?… I need to pee.”

“Sure. Me too,” Steven smiles warmly at her but his eyes cannot remain on hers. They predictably fall to the seat of his truck where the lower curve of Tabitha’s bottom is visible from her dress being allowed to ride up.

Alone in the ladies room, Tabitha does a quick make-up check and fluffs her hair a bit. She then slides her hand under her dress in back and unhooks the strapless bra. Folding the front of her dress down, she admires her full breasts in the mirror. Wetting her fingertips in the cold tap water, she tweaks each nipple, sending shivers of pleasure straight into her loins. Satisfied that both nips are completely erect and slightly throbbing from the mild abuse, she resituates her dress and checks the mirror to confirm the desired effect.

Tabitha pulls the front down slightly, to reveal more of the soft, round curve of her breasts than the designer envisioned. With her bra tucked in her purse, her small, quarter-sized nipples are plainly outlined and visible through the thin fabric. Poor Steven. He’s going to have a hard time concentrating on the road.

Back on the road, Tabitha fakes a yawn. “Do you mind if I lean over and close my eyes for a minute? I think the tequila may have gotten to me a little…I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“No, not at all. Be there in thirty minutes. I’ll wake you when we pull in the gate.”

Tabitha leans over and rests her head on Steven’s shoulder. As she does, she hooks a thumb in the fabric of her dress and lets the front slide down just enough that her right nipple is visible along the edge of the sheer fabric.

Steven immediately takes notice and his heart races a bit. Tabitha’s firm, perfectly shaped breast is beckoning, inches from him and the desire to take it in his hand and test the soft, supple flesh is unbearable. Steven sucks in a long breath and pushes it back through pursed lips in an exaggerated sigh. Might be a difficult thirty minutes.

Soon Tabitha’s breathing evens as she pretends to sleep. Nervous excitement fills her and lying still proves more of a challenge than she originally anticipated. She turns groggily, and lifts her left leg as if to get more comfortable, but in reality she is only working the dress back up around her hips. Her right breast feels utterly naked and deliciously exposed. She can feel Steven’s eyes tracing her body once again and hear his breathing become shallow and slightly labored. He doesn’t want to wake me, she thinks, he wants me to be asleep. He wants to look without getting caught.

“Hey, you awake?” Steven whispers in a low voice. Tabitha doesn’t move. “Tabitha?” Still she does not dare stir.

Steven can no longer resist temptation. Very slowly, he moves his left hand across his body and lightly cups Tabitha’s exposed breast. The contact is hardly perceptible but he can feel her erect nipple against the palm of his hand. He immediately pulls his hand away and glances down at her, to ensure she hasn’t awakened, before adjusting the erection that is pushing painfully against his jeans.

He cautiously returns to her breast and ever so slowly increases pressure to sample the firm flesh. He traces the rock hard nipple with two fingers, all the while intently watching her for any sign of movement or regaining consciousness.

Holy shit! He’s actually touching me. Didn’t expect this! Tabitha is horrified and aroused at the same time. She did not plan for this contingency and now that Steven is calmly massaging her right breast, she knows she should pretend to wake up and end the game but every ounce of desire in her wants to continue. What do I do? Hmmm. It feels sooo good. It’s wrong to let him do this. It was wrong to lure him into it. I should stop it, but on some level I kind of owe him a little fun, right? He can have his thrill and I’ll have mine and it’ll never be an issue because he won’t even know I know. Ohhhh holy fucking shit! 

Tabitha feels his hand move from her breast to the inner part of her left thigh. Up high. Really high. Like along the hem of her panties high. His fingers slowly stroke the soft skin to test the waters before his hand begins to massage gently, copping a serious feel.

Hhhhmmm shit that feels good. I have to stop. I’m so fucking wet that if he tries to finger me he’s gonna know I’m awake. Ohhhh, I don’t want him to stop. Ghhhoddd, I hope he fingers me.

She parts her thighs slightly, allowing Steven easier access to her badly aching pussy if he dares be so bold. The movement causes him momentary pause and a brief flash of panic, but he writes it off to good luck.

The fluttering in Tabitha’s tummy has given way to boiling, churning desire. She had no idea things would get this out of hand this fast but now that they are, she is beyond the threshold of being deterred by consequence. Her mouth is watering and she desperately needs to grind against something. Anything. She needs pressure. Rough, masculine pressure on her softest, most sensitive of regions.

Steven carefully moves a finger over her swollen lips. Softly stroking her through her panties, he can feel her rigid clit struggling for attention. His fingers press gently and begin to massage excruciating desire into her delicate folds. Her juices soak through and wet his fingers as he toys with her slit.

There is an unwanted pause between her legs as Steven works the wheel to steer the truck through the gate and into the Gaines’ driveway. Fuck, we’re here. Tabitha is partly relieved but mostly disappointed to be home.

Steven puts the truck in neutral and sets the brake very carefully. Painfully slowly. Every movement calculated and carefully executed so as not to wake Tabitha. He’s not done with me. Excitement boils back and she can feel the warmth of her natural lubricant descending, filling, and spilling over her hungry slit.

Steven reaches between her legs and this time his fingers slide inside her panties. He is astonished by how sopping wet her pussy is and how easily she accepts first one, then two fingers inside her. His palm grazes her bare, engorged clit. Control escapes her and a stifled whimper rushes from Tabitha’s lips.

Steven jerks his hand from her and Tabitha looks up into horrified blue-grey eyes. His mouth drops open as if to speak but no words will come. He has suddenly been shocked from the intoxication of desire into the sobriety of reality. A reality in which he thinks he may have actually just committed a felony. At the very least he has lost his best friend and violated the trust of another very close, very dear friend by finger fucking her in her sleep. What the fuck were you thinking?!

Tabitha looks up at Steven with pleading blue eyes, “Don’t stop. Please… I need this…You need this.”

Steven is visibly shaken and confused. Frozen, he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. His mind has not quite wrapped itself around her request. He was so expecting screaming or crying or…something. But this he didn’t expect at all.

“I’m sorry,” finally finds its way from his lips.

Shaking her head, Tabitha takes his hand in hers, guides it back between her spread thighs, and slowly rubs it up and down her hungry slit, “Don’t be. I’m not. I wanted it. You can have this,” she coos, “you can have me. No one will know. I need this Steven. Please don’t stop….Do this for me and I’ll do anything you like for you.”

Tabitha angles Stevens hand so that his fingers slide back inside her. Her eyes roll back and she tosses her head, letting out a deep, guttural moan, “Nnnggaaahhh….yes Steven…yhhheeessss….tell me what you want from me. Tell me what I can give you that Lori won’t. Does she ……hhhhaaaaghhmmmm…. does she suck you?…I’ll suck you off tonight Steven…I’ll suck you off whenever you need it… mmmhhhmmm…”

Steven begins to stroke his fingers in and out of Tabitha’s hungry pussy, his palm grinding on her clit. She is close to climax. Really close. Creamy rivulets of her sweet juices run down her inner thighs and onto the leather seat.

Tabitha is grinding into Steven’s hand with abandon, “Does Lori suck you Steven?”

“Yes…yeah, she does,” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“Oooooohhh….hhmm…I want to give you what she won’t…you’re giving me what Taylor won’t…I want you to get what you need too…I’ll do what she won’t Steven…I’ll do anything….does she let you fuck her ass Steven?”

“No…never…she won’t even consider it…” Pre-cum has now soaked through Steven’s jeans and an expanding stain is visible in his bulging crotch.

“HHHooohh, fhhhuuuuccckk….I’m gonna let you fuck my ass Steven…do you want my ass?”

“Oh, fuck yes….I want my cock in your ass Tabitha….I’ve wanted to fuck you for ten years.”

Tabitha spreads her legs wide and slides forward to accept Stevens fingers deep in her pulsating cunt, “I’m gonna cum Steven….I’m about to cum….hhhhmmmmaahhhh fhhhuuuuuckkkk!!! Stuh-hheee-vhhhennnn…..I’m fuckin’ cumming thinkin’ about your cock in my ass…..ohhhh I want your fucking cock in my ahhhhsssss-sss”

Steven pumps viciously into Tabitha’s spasming cunt with his now aching hand. Slippery secretions cover his left hand to the wrist as he works deep into her pink folds. Her thighs tremble and her lips quiver with every gasping breath. Her panties are ruined, her dress soaked as well. The cab of Steven’s truck is filled with the sweet, musky scent of a fully aroused woman.

Unable to wait another second, Steven raises to one knee, his head ducking low in the cab, unzips his fly, and pulls his throbbing cock from his jeans. Stroking himself roughly, he guides his pulsating manhood into Tabitha’s open, waiting mouth just as the first stream of sticky-hot spunk splashes on her tongue and slides down her throat. Tabitha takes over stroking his thick shaft, milking every salty drop into her hungry mouth, then holding him there, massaging his swollen cock head with her soft, smooth tongue until the last tremor of orgasm leaves his body.

Tabitha continues to gently stroke Steven’s shaft even after pulling him from her mouth. He watches her swallow the mouthful he just gave her, then smile sweetly at him as she absently continues to stroke his manhood and occasionally take him in her mouth until his erection completely subsides. 

***

“We need to talk about this,” Tabitha says once they’ve somewhat sorted themselves back out.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything…I don’t expect this to go on…I don’t regret it. Honestly it’s something I’ve secretly wanted to do for a long time….but I don’t want things to get weird between us because of this…so I’m good with just calling it a fall mixer that was worth going to for once. Other than that, it will be something we can snicker about from time to time…”

“Steven, that’s not what I’m saying at all. You gave me something tonight that Taylor hasn’t given me in a long time, maybe never has, I don’t know. I felt wanted and desired in such an animalistic way that I can never explain how utterly turned on I was with you tonight. I’m still turned on and if Taylor wasn’t due to pull in the drive at any minute I would be fucking you right now…I’m not wanting this to end, quite the opposite.”

“You want to do this again?”

“Well, probably not exactly this,” Tabatha’s eyes narrow and she doesn’t try to hide the fact that she’s grinding against the seat again, “I meant every word I said when I told you I want t give you something Lori can’t or won’t give you. I owe you that much. I want us to make plans for you to take my ass if that’s what you want…ahmm,’ she almost purrs as she slips a finger inside her soaking panties, ‘Any…way…you…want…You’ll be the first man I’ve ever let in there…unless there’s something else you’d rather do?”

‘No,’ Steven’s reply is raspy with want. He can’t believe what he is about to say aloud to Tabitha Gaines. ‘I wanna fuck your gorgeous little ass. I’ve fantasized about fucking you since we were in college, I want your ass.’

‘Mmmm…It’ll be yours then…soon,’ she smiles wickedly as her passion-glazed eyes beg him for…something. Something not quite tangible, but at the same time perfectly clear in the minds of both occupants of the old pick-up.

Tabitha is visibly aroused and once again pulls Steven’s hand between her thighs. She glides her slit along his fingers, rocking forward and back. Then, hesitantly, she angles his finger back to her tight, virgin opening. Steven can feel the rigid, puckered ring of her unbroken back door clench and relax involuntarily from the unfamiliar stimulation of his fingers.

Just as Steven’s fingertip slips inside and the overwhelming combination of pleasure, pain, and new sensation causes Tabitha to let out the first whimpering sob of impending orgasm, headlights flash on the back glass of the Chevy.

Tabitha slides her silk panties back over and pulls her dress back down. Visibly disappointed, she flashes a knowing grin at Steven and winks suggestively, “I’d better get inside, think about me.”

“Can’t really imagine thinking about anything else right now.”

Steven watches her ass roll and sway under the little black dress as she heads up the walk to the front door. He then shifts to the rear-view as Taylor’s car pulls into the drive behind his Chevy. Sorry Taylor…sorry, man.