I ease my upper body out of her car and give her one last smile and easy nod. “Drive safely.”
“Sure thing, Dr. Hawkins.”
“Eli. Dorothy …” I shake my head. “You can’t suggest what you just suggested and then call me Dr. Hawkins.”
“Well, as you just reminded me, we could see people from the hospital, and I should keep things professional.”
“Touché. Goodnight.” I shut her door. As she fastens her seat belt and plugs her phone into the charging outlet, I just stand here, like a stalker.
I love my job, in spite of watching so many young people suffer and sometimes lose their battles with cancer. The fight to find a solution keeps me motivated. I love being a dad to Roman, even if I have to give him up every other week. I love lunch on Fridays with my mom. Family dinners. Morning runs and evening hikes along the dense forest trails.
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.