The Reach of a Stranger

With the sun rise, Stefife's first task was to find her grove. The one between her legs. She stretched out under the sheets, touched her toes to the foot board and lifted her arms up over her head. She could feel a warm glow emanating from the fresh flow of blood. The fog of sleep lifted.

Her hands found their own way, creating a twinge of excitement, which elevated her heart rate. "Now if I could only get this feeling to reach the brain," Steffie said to herself.

Steffie's brain was not all that complicated, at least to her. Sometimes it aligned with her groove, like today; other times it took effort to become reattached.

That sexual energy and connection drove Steffie to a state of arousal, which she hoped would last all day. The state of constant excitement was both satisfying and distracting. It was distracting in the sense that it had to be fed with thoughts of the most lascivious sort.

The one thought at the top of the list today involved her relationship with Art and his latest role for her, that being both the object of his desire and his sex bot. Steffie did not always enjoy the latter because she did not like to be told what to do. The former she enjoyed because she loved to please.

"I really love to please myself," Steffie thought. The thought of pleasing herself put Steffie back into a steady state, and slightly elevated her pulse again.

"You like to turn myself on don't you," she said to herself.

She followed her own command: "You're naughty and covertly sexual."

Now programmed, she reentered the world of her immediate surroundings, namely the bedroom closet. Within a clutter hangers, her pink teddy and panties, used last night in her role as the object of Art's desire, caught her eye.

"Art liked me a lot last night. He told me to stand in the corner, then to bend over the edge of the bed," she recalled.

He thinks I should wear a bustier in public, when shopping at Walmart.

Art's desires centered on the voyeuristic. He liked the idea of her being the object of another man's interest. He'd asked her about that last night and the thought returned to her again, as she contemplated her array of jumbled shoes.

"My shoes set my mood," she decided,as she slid her toes into the pair of teal platforms.

Steffie stood in front of the mirror, a move that almost always triggered another state of arousal. This was a condition she was well aware of and she managed it to suit her moods. She watched herself in the mirror as her red nails slid down between her legs and over her grove.

The thought of going forward entered her mind. "One centimetre deeper and you won't be able to stop," she decided.

"I'm ready when you are," Steffie said to Art.

She watched Art work in their home-office. Art looked up from his screen and smiled.

"Steffie works better when left to think for herself" he thought.

The short trench coat style dress barely reached Steffie's thigh. Her hair covered her eyes. Her handbag looked like it could hold something useful and thus be necessary.

Beyond the heels, Steffie was a model of external minimalism and inner complexity.

"You'll likely have to get down on your knees on hard asphalt pavement, unless you get into the front seat with him."

"I'll decide when the time comes," she said.

Steffie thought about her introduction, and that opened her to the idea of actually giving herself away to to satisfy Art and the fantasy.

Beyond the fantasy and within the reality, she could only recognize a sea of asphalt parking lot, parked cars, landscape medians, and light poles. She placed herself at the edge of the parking lot and looked around.

The cars seemed indistinct and the strangers within looked preoccupied, intent on their coming and going.

Steffie began to walk across the parking lot, the warm night air felt good on her bare legs. She felt her confidence build with each step. "Your both incongruous and in control," she though while watching her reflection as she passed the car windows.

Art felt a twinge of regret, as he sat in his car, hands on the wheel, the light of Steffie's phone shining from the passenger seat. "She called my bluff," he thought.

The vision of Steffie on her knees behind an open car door was both arousing and disturbing. He could just make out her feet, clad as they were in teal platform heels. Steffie's ankles, and the object of his most intense interest and desire, beginning on the day they first met, were now within the reach of a stranger.

Thinking back on the evening, Steffie allowed her brain to spool over Art's command number one: "Look for a car with an unlocked passenger door. Stand in front of the car, as though you're a pitcher waiting for a sign from your catcher."

Steffie remembered the reaction of the stranger, looking back at her as she peered into the windshield, his hands outstretched, a perplexed look on his face.

She complemented herself on the fact she ignored her initial reaction, which was to shake off the sign. "Multiple signals will create variability and potentially uncertainty," she told herself.

Acting on instinct, she bit her lower lip and feigned a look of vulnerability, which provided an opening, which she took by walking around to the the side of the car, opening the passenger door, and getting down on her knees, with her chin resting on the passenger seat.

With her best helpless look, Steffie said "I've locked my purse and my phone in my car. I'm in no position to be walking by myself, at night, in this parking lot. Can you help me please?"

The stranger reached over and pressed the lock button. "Get in and close the door" he said.