The Stir

I laugh. "That was sweet of you to remember."

"And since you seem to like them ... " he pulls off the tight black t-shirt he's wearing, revealing heavy tattooing across his firm abs. "New ink." He points to a large red dragon breathing fire across his ribcage. I trace my fingers across it.

"So ... backseat?" I ask, remembering Malik was only giving us 20 minutes.

"After you, Mrs. Robinson," he gestures to the back.

"Don't call me that, " I laugh as I crawl back between the seats, giving him an up-close view up my skirt as I do. "I'm not that much older than you."

He lets out a low wolf whistle and follows me into the backseat, "But I love an older, more experienced woman and you love the stamina of a younger man."

I roll my eyes at him. He points out the two empty Red Bull cans and makes lewd hip gestures till I am giggling uncontrollably. Then he leans forward and kisses me, running his hands up and down my bare thighs until I am breathing heavy once more.

"You ready to give all these bored-ass people a show?"

Now is the moment to turn back if I don't want to go through with it. But I do, so I smile and nod enthusiastically.

"Turn around and bend over."

I turn away from him, and crawl onto my hands and knees in the cramped backseat, spreading my legs. He runs a finger along my wet crease.

"This is the best traffic jam ever."

He grips my hips tightly and sinks into me with gusto. Then he starts fucking me hard and fast.

"Fuck yeah ... fuck yeah ... " he says over and over again as he drills into me, pumping his cock. I lean back, spreading my legs even wider and he sinks deeper with each powerful thrust. He is fucking me so hard, the Bronco is rocking back and forth, and I am sure the trucker isn't the only person in traffic taking video of us. But I don't care. Eric's cock feels so good driving forward again and again.

True to his promise of stamina, Eric shows no signs of fatigue and I can feel the sensation building deep inside. When he reaches around and begins to rub his thumb on my clit, I cry out and collapse onto my elbows, thrusting my ass farther into the air and giving him a deeper angle. He's pounding the very core of me, and his hard cock filling me combined with his frenzied rubbing of my already tender clit sends me over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

"Fuck yeah, oh, fuck," he yells as he comes, spilling into me. Then he falls back into the seat and I do the same. I glance at the clock. We've made the window with barely a minute to spare.

Eric reaches forward and grabs the bag of Sour Patch Kids from the seat, offering me one.

"Malik picking you up or did that asshole leave you to rot with me?"

"He'll be back in a few minutes."

Eric gives me his most charming smile, and flexes his nearly-perfect abs. "There's no chance you'd let him take me home while you drive my car back, is there?" he asks.

I laugh at him a hearty, rolling laugh that brings tears to my eyes. He eventually joins in mocking his feeble attempt. "Had to try, ya know."

We eat candy and Eric entertains me with stories of his bandmates, who are apparently all "total douchebags" but who he spends all his time with. Finally, I see Malik's car pull up on the other side of the median.

"That's my ride," I say, getting ready to jump out of the car. "Thanks for making the best out of this jam."

"You can come fuck me in traffic any time you like. But if no other assholes spill their trucks, I guess I'll see you next month."

"You know there might not be a next month, Eric."

"Oh, yeah, if you get yourself knocked up. Well, you can still come fuck me pregnant. I don't mind."

I smile at him, blow him a kiss, and climb out of the car. This time when I climb over the median, there are at least a dozen cell phones at the ready. I mentally write the headline "Dodgers fan stops traffic," and giggle to myself.

Malik drives me back to my car at the hotel, brushing off my profuse thanks and offers of gas money. When we get there, he leans in for a deep, sensuous kiss. "Until next time, beautiful."

I climb into my car, exhausted from the day's exertion. I look in the rearview mirror and the brown paper bag is staring back at me. I don't want to deal with it now, but I know I have to stop putting it off.

I reach back, grab the bag, and climb out of the car. There are some dumpsters near the side of the hotel which will work. I walk over to them, heels clicking on the pavement in the darkening twilight. Am I really going to do this?

Yes. I am sexy and powerful. I am righteous. I am a woman and I deserve the strange, karmic reward that has been placed at my feet.

I open the bag and pull out the three plastic sticks inside, each with a small oval filled with a bright pink plus sign. I stare at them and think of all the power these tiny pieces of plastic have to change my marriage, my relationships, and my life. I think of how they mean the beginning of something unpredictable and wonderful - something I've wanted for a long time. I think of how they also mean the end of something unpredictable and wonderful -- something I never knew I wanted but now wonder if I can live without.

I weigh them in my hand and they are not as heavy as they should be. Then I throw them into the dumpster.

I'll give Marc our exciting news soon, and we'll share the special kind of joy that only people who have worked long and hard for something and finally see it manifest share. But for a little while longer, I will continue to enjoy Malik's romance and talented tongue and Eric's sweet, goofy enthusiasm and hard inked abs.

I walk back to the car, texting Marc that I'm on my way home, and offering to pick up a pizza. And as I climb into the car I think how much karma is misunderstood. She's not a bitch. She's a goddess.