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| lingerie, links, media, stories, plays, footfetish, radical orthodoxy, devil, laws, abovethe law, | I am leaning against the car, still activism panting. He takes my hipbone in broad hands and lifts me onto the hood of his car. The car is wet from a sprinkle of rain, but I don't care. I can't imagine any rainstorm wetter than my pussy. My pussy: it opens up like a fire-eater's throat preparing for the plunge of the torch and the sweet, salient ecstasy of penetration. "I saw you," he whispers. His hands glide through my hair, his eager lips plant kisses up and down my neck, biting and sucking and activism licking. "Where?" He bites activism my earlobe, and I gasp. He traces the rim of my ear with his tongue before answering, his breath so hot that his words feel like sex. "Outside, taking off your tights. I saw you. You were sitting under the light." "I thought you were hungry." "I was," he says, and he demonstrates by biting my neck. |
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| Under the table, I stick my foot between his legs. He just raises his eyebrows, smiles that charming smile again, and leans back. I move my toes up and around the bulge in radical orthodoxy his pants, tracing his cock. His salad arrives, and I set my foot down. "I'll be right back." I slide out of the radical orthodoxy booth, my panties wet and warm. I feel like my juices are purging fidelity, all the life I've been trying so hard to want. I do my sidework. Then I walk over as radical orthodoxy he's paying his bill. "How was everything?" I ask. He just signs his credit-card slip and stands up. He motions for me to follow him, and so I do, out to the parking lot, and I run towards his car to see if he'll try to catch me. He comes after me. |
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