Drive By

She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but she just couldn’t help herself. She turns to drive past his house again, unable to ignore the pounding in her heart and the dampness between her thighs. She knows she can’t see him – shouldn’t see him – but lust is winning out.

Her brakes seem to press themselves, stopping her perfectly along the curb to park.
As if moved by some unseen force, she gets out of the car and walks up the path to his house. Her heels click up the cement walkway, bringing her closer to the object of her obsession.

The rap of her knuckles on the door echoes throughout the house.

Startled by the noise, he spins around in his computer chair, listening again.

Another knock echoes.

He walks down the staircase, only able to see a distorted form though the frosted glass of the door. Opening it, he does everything but melt at the sight in front of him.

A petite, longhaired brunette with olive skin and chocolate pools for eyes stands there, wearing a pleated jean skirt that brushes the middle of her thighs. Her red-collared shirt begs to be taken off, rumbled and hiding a naughty secret beneath. On her small feet is a pair of 5-inch red stilettos, the ones she knows he loves.

Her eyes go wide, slightly surprised he answered the door. He’s stands there in nothing but a pair of red boxers. Her eyes meet his of ice blue, taking in his blonde hair and naked torso.

A brief moment passes before they both succumb to the sexual tension pulsing between them.

He grabs her right bicep, pulling her into the house and slamming the door behind her. His body crushes into hers, their lips meeting in an animalistic, desperate kiss. She moans as she wraps her legs around his waist; pressing her back into the door, he lifts her, trapping her between his body and the glass.