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to his touch everywhere. She was panting, trying to catch her breath from her tempestuous thrashing of moments before. She realized hed stopped. He hadnt come, he hadnt pulled out, hed just stopped. She looked down their sweat slicked bodies; he was still on her, still in her. She met his eyes, and he flashed a peculiar half-smile. He pulled out as he pushed up off of her, standing in one fluid movement. She propped herself up on her elbows, expecting to suck him to climax like all men wanted. When she looked up at him he was buckling his belt, his shadow lay across her pelvis and stomach as his body had moments before. She reached out to him, but he stepped back. She stood slowly, awkwardly adjusting her skirt. Her ankle no longer hurt, she put all of her weight on the one foot. Nothing. She looked up at him still towering over her even standing, and and placed one hand on his chest. His lips parted, the first syllable of an unformed word nearly broke the silence, but Sara placed the tip of one finger over his lips and shook her head no, repeating his earlier message. Dont speak, youll ruin the moment. He smiled then. A beautiful smile, perfect white teeth bared between his full lips, delight showing clearly on his dark features. He pointed one finger off towards the far edge of the clearing. Sara turned, her hand falling down from his chest, to see the two deer back at the edge of the stream. The buck sniffed the air, ears pivoting. She twisted back to look at the smiling man, but he was gone. She spun in a circle, startling the deer, looking for him everywhere, but saw no sign of him. He had vanished. . . . Sara had laid back on the grass and watched the deer until they bolted, then stayed there for another hour or so. When she finally got back to her car, she checked her messages. Josh called to say that Rob was out of town visiting his mother until Tuesday. Amanda, one half of the swinging couple Tom had introduced her to, had called to firm up their plans to meet next Saturday. Frank called to see what she was doing tonight. Nothing from Rebecca, which Sara found unsettling. She drove back home, thoughts of her mystery man and Rebecca warring for dominance in her mind. She passed a guy sitting by a rusted white van on the side of the road selling flowers with a big sign that said "Mothers Day." Shit. Tomorrow was Mothers Day. She pulled over and bought a bouquet of white Chrysanthemums. Theyd always been her mothers favorite, and once Sara learned that they symbolized truth, it seemed even more fitting. It was six oclock when she arrived home. She put the flowers in a vase with some water; shed take them to her mother tomorrow. She took off her skirt and rubbed stain stick into the grass stains. She put


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on a pair of blue panties and a light blue camisole, then lay back on her bed, her thoughts again wandering to the mystery woodsman. How perfect that encounter had been, totally anonymous yet deeply personal. If only she could connect with people like that more often. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and asked for nothing in return. It was almost a dream. Was it a dream? No, her skirt had the grass stains and her ass hurt enough from the hard ground to prove it had happened. It suddenly seemed darker than it had moments before. She glanced over at the bright red digits of her alarm clock. It was nine thirty. She must have dozed off. She heard movement beyond her bedroom door. Shit, Rebeccas home, and I have no idea what her problem is. How am I going to approach her? Sara rolled over on her bed, listening for any clue as to Rebeccas mood based on the muffled sounds on the other side of her door. Fuck her. I dont have the energy for this right now. She felt angry, mad at Rebecca for being so childish, mad that shed told all their friends about her plan. She pulled the stereo remote off her nightstand and turned on some music, switching between stations, unable to find anything appealing. Pop, rap, country, 70s rock, more pop... the selection on the radio was crap. She clicked over to the five-disc changed and switched CDs, the mechanical rattling of the trays as the machine switched from disc one to disc three took an annoyingly long time. Tray three was reserved for angry music, and the last disc shed left in was Kill Em All by Metallica. She cranked it up loud and then took her new vibrator out of the nightstand drawer. It was called Total Decadence, and had three stimulators, clitoral, vaginal and an extended anal probe. As the first track kicked in, guitars churning and drums thumping, she went to work with her new toy, hoping the music was loud enough to muffle her moans.
Jen could remember a time when she would have been annoyed by the prospect of arriving home late at night, after a long day at work and an hour-long commute, only to find her husband asleep and her home in darkness. Tonight she was pleased by the idea. She didnt want to talk to him. She just wanted to put on her nightgown, slip into bed without waking Charles, and go to sleep. Two weeks had gone by, very slowly, since the night she had been pulled over by a state trooper named Trent. That night, in the front seat of his cruiser, she had straddled him, and she had taken his hard cock deep within her, and she had let him do as he pleased with her, and she had come away changed. She had crept like a stranger into her own home later that night, showered quickly in the downstairs