The Crib

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A heady mixture of adrenaline and arousal coursed through my veins as I lifted the half-full snifter to my lips to sip at the creamy concoction. I’d been trying for hours to wrap my mind around the latest news I’d received. Jimmy D, a man I considered family, was a murder suspect. My temper had been simmering since I got off the phone, and I couldn’t seem to get a grip.

I’d learned that the only way for me to deal when that happened was to go in search of a physical release. A fight was one way to take the edge off my emotions and give me a chance to think again, but my sparring partner was out of town, so I had gone with option two.

Setting the drink down again, I swiped my tongue slowly across my top lip to catch anything left behind, and watched my companion’s eyes darken. A slow flush crept across his high cheekbones and he inched closer.

He was a good-looking guy. In a clean-cut boy next-door kind of way that made him look younger than he probably was. Not my usual type. However, I knew for a fact that looks could be deceiving. And the fact that he was hanging out in this bar, a known meet-market, told me that he wasn’t as naïve or innocent as he appeared. Just like I wasn’t as frail or delicate as I appeared.

“What was your name again?” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and looked him up and down. “Steve,” he answered.

“Are you horny, Steve?”

Now it was his neck that slowly turned red. I slipped my hand below the edge of the bar, leaned into him, and reaching between his legs, tested his size. His cock swelled beneath my fingers, and a satisfying feeling of power swept over me.

Men. They were so predictable.

“I think you’ve discovered the answer to that question yourself,” he spoke with confidence.

With a naughty smile I stroked him a few times through his trousers. That was all it took. He reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills on the bar for the tab. Stepping back, he took my now empty hand in his, and we exited the bar.

The night air was humid and the parking lot was dark, a couple of the lights along the roof of the building burnt out. I automatically scanned my surroundings, noticing dark corners and the proximity of potential danger zones. It was the perfect place for illicit activities.

God, I loved the rush of living-on-the-edge, of doing the unexpected.

Steve lead the way across the parking lot, with me following him, not saying a word. Instead, I focused on the way my heart raced, my pussy lips plumped, and my juices pooled between my thighs.

He hadn’t even touched me yet. The overeager reaction of my body was a clear sign I was doing the right thing. I needed this liberation from my tangled thoughts for just a short time.

Steve stopped next to a big shiny red pickup truck that was backed up against the building, and beeped the door unlocked.

“This is yours?”

“Yup.” He ushered me between the truck and the compact car parked next to it. “Where are you going?”

Instead of climbing into the truck like he’d expected, I continued to walk toward the building. With a quick glance I confirmed my suspicions. There was just enough room for what I had in mind.

Reaching into my bra I skipped over the small blade I kept nestled between my breasts, and pulled out the condom I’d tucked next to it earlier. I handed it to Steve, and then let down the tailgate of the truck.

Bending over the end of the truck, I planted my hands on the truck bed and spread my legs, feeling the cool air on my hot sex. I looked over my shoulder, quirked an eyebrow at the gaping man, and wiggled my tail.

“Here?” he croaked.

“Here.”

An eager grin spread across his expressive face and he couldn’t unzip his pants fast enough. Once I saw him rolling the condom onto his rigid hard-on, I turned away and looked out over the parking lot.

“Lexy, baby,” he said as he lifted my skirt and grabbed my hips. “You’re a fantasy come to life, aren’t you?”

“Don’t talk, Steve.” I arched my back and thrust back against his groin. Reaching between my legs with one hand I gripped his cock, guiding him to my entrance. “You’ll ruin the fantasy.”

An ecstatic groan echoed in the empty lot as he thrust deep. My eyelids dropped to half-mast and I fought to keep my head up, to keep my eyes on the other dark corners as my insides pulsed low and heavy. The thrill of the forbidden enhanced the fire burning through my veins. A moan slipped from me when the man behind me gripped my hips tighter, and pumped into me faster and harder. His rigid cock slid in and out, filling me and pulling away in delicious torture. Our panting breaths filled the silence in the dark night air and my insides started to clench. A mini spasm swept over me when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

It was another couple, strolling into the parking lot, arms wrapped around each other. They hadn’t seen us yet and I doubted they would as they were heading for the other side of the lot. But just the chance that we might get caught had me striving for the orgasm already building inside me. I lifted a hand from the truck bed, reached between my thighs, and pinched my swollen clit.

A shudder racked my body, and I bit my lip to stifle my outcry as pleasure rolled over me in waves. My orgasm set off Steve’s and he bucked against me, groaning loud enough for the couple across the parking lot to turn in our direction before jumping into their car quickly.

Steve leaned over my back for a few seconds to catch his breath before pulling out. I used that time to catch my own breath and shake off any misplaced sense of shame. I turned to Steve after pulling my skirt down, and patted him on the cheek softly. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Can I get your number?” He called out as I walked away.

I didn’t bother to answer. The orgasm had cleared my head, and I knew what I had to do. I didn’t really want to go back to Edmonton, but I wasn’t about to stand by and lose another loved one when I could do something about it.

Most men think women use sex to get what they want, out of them, out of life. But I know different. I know that women are trained from childhood to believe that sex is something special, to be shared only with someone special. That it’s more than just an urge, or a natural high. I know that if women really used sex as a weapon, they’d be more dangerous.

They’d be more like me.

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