Perfectly Adequate(32)

But … something’s missing. For a year I thought it was Julie.

It wasn’t.

It’s Dorothy Mayhem and the backseat of her Audi Q5.

Sliding my fingers along the side of her clean car, I stop at her back door, take a deep breath—the kind you take before doing something mildly insane yet totally exhilarating—and open it. As I ease into the backseat and shut the door, Dorothy and her big blue eyes watch me with uncertainty.

“I don’t have a condom, but I can fulfill your pre-dinner request.”

Her lips part, and her eyes widen a fraction more for several blinks. “Okay.”

Brilliant.

Had she said anything but “okay,” I would be disappointed. But Dorothy Mayhem doesn’t disappoint … ever.

And because opening and closing two doors would be too easy, she unfastens her seatbelt and crawls over the middle console, landing like someone dumped a bag of arms and legs onto my lap.

She straightens herself onto the other seat and reaches under her arm for the zipper to her strapless dress. “I have a condom. I always pack a condom when I wear this dress. So, we can do both. And I don’t have a bra on, so this will not be a striptease. I’ll quickly go from clothed to naked. You good with that?”

Um … yeah. This is Heaven. She is Heaven. At thirty-eight, it’s hard to imagine something old ever truly feeling new again.

Wrong.

Dorothy makes breathing feel new again. And something tells me she’s about to make sex feel new again. And I don’t give a single fuck that we’re only on our fourth date (first official one).

We’re consenting adults.

Julie got fake boobs and tattoos.

I haven’t had sex in a long time.

And if the world ends without me getting into the back of Dorothy Mayhem’s car, I will regret it in the afterlife.

“I’m good with that.” I try to keep my voice steady, but anticipation and complete disbelief shake my words.

Zip.

She lets her dress fall to her waist. I stop breathing. Part of me surrenders to the distraction of the logistics. Sure, her car model isn’t the smallest, but it’s far from roomy in the backseat.

On a smirk, she leans back and lifts her butt off the seat, shimmying her dress past her hips, and stepping out of it before slinging it over the seat in front of her.

Wow …

Here she sits in nothing but a delicate pair of white panties. And she doesn’t appear the least bit self-conscious. Looking me in the eye seems to pose a bigger challenge to her than taking off her clothes.

“Good thing I’m short, huh?”

Yes, she’s short, and my dick is long and so very very hard.

“Panties on or off? You can slide them to the side to access everything.” Her lips twist. “But I don’t want them getting really wet, so let’s just take them off.”

It has to be a dream. There’s no way this conversation is taking place. She makes oral sex sound clinical. I anticipate her giving me a quick tour, pointing out specific things like her clitoris. Yet … I can’t blink. And for whatever unexplainable reason, it’s the most erotic moment of my life.

Dorothy unties her shoes and removes her panties. She folds them and sets them on the center console. I’m in the back of Dorothy Mayhem’s car, and she is naked!

“Are you going to lose your clothes so we can go right from one to the other? Or do you want to leave yours on while you do me?” She scoots to the far corner of the backseat, which isn’t that far at all, and draws one leg toward her chest, resting her foot on the seat like someone might do while getting cozy on a sofa. Only … we’re not on a sofa. And her new position completely opens her up to me.

Everything about her paralyzes me. Only my eyes can move, and they can’t decide where to land. She is fucking beautiful.

“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 …”