“Dr. Hawkins …” Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t want you to feel rushed to the point that you can’t perform. But I do have to work in the morning. So …”
“Let’s go back to kissing.” I lean in and kiss her.
She cups my face again and kisses me back in a way that sends my hands into a frenzy of need.
Needing to explore her naked body, but the time crunch nags at my conscience, I cup her left breast while my other hand cups her between the legs.
She moans into my mouth, and I nearly come in my damn pants. I slide my middle finger inside her and massage her clit with my thumb. But Dorothy knows exactly what she wants … she knew it before dinner. Her hands on my face guide my head down her body, only my long torso doesn’t allow me access. And she’s pressed to the door. Maybe she needed to go with a bigger backseat to accommodate car sex with someone over six feet tall.
“I’ll scoot onto the floor. You lie down, and I’ll straddle your head.”
I laugh a bit, in spite of my efforts to remain serious. After all, I have a naked woman offering me sex, all different kinds of sex. But there’s just not enough room. And her words are sexy, but still very matter-of-fact. A how-to manual instead of raw and needy.
My carpe diem begins to fade. Really, what if one of my colleagues gets a craving for pizza and walks by the car and happens to glance back through the windshield into the backseat?
“Dorothy …” I let my head flop against the headrest, closing my eyes and rubbing my face. It’s not that I’m not ready. The possibility of my cock breaking from the strain against my pants remains a serious threat. “I thought I could, but if someone walks by your car …”
She sighs, scooting back onto the seat while hugging her legs to her chest with her chin resting on her knee. “You’re probably right. The last thing you need after the chaos of Boss Bitch leaving you is a viral rumor about you snacking on Dorothy Mayhem—patient transporter—in the back of a car parked outside of a restaurant.”
Kill me now. Snacking on Dorothy Mayhem?
My fisted hand flies to my mouth as tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to laugh at her. Really, truly, sincerely do not want to laugh at her. But I do. And it isn’t a slight chuckle; it’s the kind of laugh that makes me cry, makes it hard to breathe, makes the muscles in my stomach hurt.
To make things worse, I peek open an eye after wiping my tears, and she’s just … waiting there. No big deal. Still naked like sitting in her car naked happens all the time. Her nose scrunches, but she doesn’t seem offended. Maybe a little amused by my reaction and equally confused.
“Do you always laugh so hard you cry?”
“No …” I shake my head and hold my stomach with one hand while my other hand wipes my face. “I’m not …” I breathe hard to keep from laughing more. “I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. Thank you.”
“For what?” She leans forward and grabs her folded panties, slipping them on slowly with a bit of lethargy or resignation in her movements.
I regain my composure, wiping my eyes one last time as she puts her dress on and slides her feet into her shoes. “For you.” I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling my legs—not my head. “You are the very best of humanity.” Then I kiss her, keeping my hands on her waist instead of snaking them up her dress like I want to do.
The night got away from us in the most bizarre way imaginable. But it’s turned into something so unforgettable, I feel reborn. Someday, I will look back and remember this night—the night Dorothy Mayhem crawled into my existence in a way that would change me forever.
She could bring me back to life.
She could show me a world I never imagined possible.
Or … she could destroy me.
If I only knew …
CHAPTER TWELVE
Playing Hooky
Dorothy
The car incident requires more than one journal, but I only have one red journal left! And it has to be red, since I wore my red dress.
WE
WILL
NEVER
HAVE
SEX!
!!!!!!!
That takes up the first six pages.
Sex is not a priority for me.
BUT …………………
I don’t like to fail.
I don’t like to disappoint.
How did this happen?
??????????????????
I just don’t get it!
The books.
The movies.
The blogs.
I’ve read
EVERYTHING!
Eighteen pages. And I just keep writing. So many emotions. Thoughts. Things to work out and sort through. I replay the entire evening on paper, including dialogue, so I can reread my entry. Study it. Figure out a way to repeat the good stuff and avoid the disasters.