She slammed out the front door of the office building and stomped down the four steps leading to the parking lot. It was already dark, which just pissed her off more. Her day had been bad enough, now she'd get mugged and raped on the way to the car since she'd had to park on the far side of the lot after lunch. Her heels thudded on the concrete with every long, angry stride.
What the fuck was wrong with the rest of the world that they refused to take responsibility for their own actions? Sometimes she felt like she was the only person in the company who actually took enough pride in work to do it correctly. And on time. And without bitching to everyone who made eye contact with her.
Thank God she had driven the convertible this morning. It wouldn't necessarily make her feel better, but she could release some of this tension by slamming through the gears on the way home. Maybe chirping the tires every once in awhile. Or racing some teenage gangbanger that thought his little Honda could really outpace her German engineering.
And she'd probably get herself shot by his gangbanger friends after kicking the little bastard's ass.
She tossed her briefcase into the trunk and dropped into the leather front seat. The engine came to life with a quiet roar. She cranked the stereo up so everyone within a three block radius could listen to Linkin Park with her. If they didn't like it, fuck 'em.
Letting her brown hair tangle in the hot desert air, she swung in a tight circle, tires protesting, and skipped right over second gear on the way out of the parking lot. She barely slowed for the exit. Downshifting for the tight turn onto the main road, she let the power of the car shove her back into the seat as she accelerated through the corner.
It took a few minutes on the freeway, weaving through traffic like she was trying to run down the cars ahead of her, before the wind finally blew away most of her anger. She was left with a disgust for her coworkers and the disappointing knowledge that not everyone took their career as seriously as she did. By the time she veered off onto her exit toward home, she was annoyed with herself for reacting so strongly in the first place.
The car was down to a quarter tank so she pulled into a gas station on the right side of the street. She left the stereo on while she pumped fuel, but was considerate enough to turn it down, figuring the elderly couple in the RV on the island across from her didn't want to listen to Chester scream about bleeding it out.
Tapping her foot along to the beat, she watched the guy at the second nozzle on her island. His pickup was dusty and he was handsome in that cowboy/working man kind of way. She smiled slightly at him when their eyes met. He nodded back at her and she had the idea that if he'd been wearing a Stetson he would have tipped it to her. How cute.
He snagged the little receipt from the pump when he was finished and looked across at her once more.
"Smile," he said quietly. "You're beautiful."
Then he got into his dusty pickup and drove away.
It was quite possibly the most sincere and perfect compliment she had ever received. His manner hadn't been at all skeezy, and it was clear he wasn't expecting anything from her since he just drove off. In fact, he had said she was beautiful in the same matter-of-fact tone that he would have used to tell her shoe was untied or that she had dropped her credit card on the asphalt.
And suddenly the night was sweetly tinged with jasmine, the breeze was soft and the stars were bright in the black velvet sky.
When the car was full she slid back into the front seat, still smiling. Maybe she should stop at the grocery store for some ice cream. Minutes later her shoes were clicking happily down the frozen aisle, debating between Haagen Dazs and Ben and Jerry's.
Cardboard carton in hand she was heading toward the checkout when she saw him. He passed down the center aisle and she was running in three-inch heels on linoleum before her mind even verified it's him! Sliding around the corner, she found him leaning over the meat counter, picking out steak.
She stepped up to him, set her ice cream down on the package of meat he was about to pick up and cupped her cold hands around his face. He jerked at her touch, but when their eyes met he relaxed and smiled shyly at her.
His cheeks were rough against her palms with the beginnings of an evening beard. But his lips were soft and warm as she kissed him. He was obviously surprised and she kept the lead for a moment, sucking gently on his bottom lip and touching it with just the tip of her tongue.
But then his body turned fully into hers and his arms pulled her closer and the grocery store disappeared.
In the short amount of time they kissed in the meat department, she learned more about him than she ever could have imagined. He was certainly a gentleman; she knew he was getting aroused, but he kept his hips a discreet, miniscule even, distance from hers rather than rubbing all over her. He followed her lead in the kiss, his tongue dancing around hers and not trying to taste her tonsils or suffocate her.
And damn, but he could kiss. He nipped at her lips, making little lightning shocks shoot through her nipples and straight to her pussy. Licking the inside of her mouth like it was a sweet delicacy he wanted to savor, one hand speared into her hair and slowly massaged the base of her neck while the other settled lightly at the small of her back.
Oh God, she could do this forever.
