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 Renee sat alone in her car at the stoplight, watching the construction workers high on the scaffolding.  Another guy dressed head to toe in blaze orange was taking a lunch break on the tailgate of his truck.  She wondered what his reaction would be if she pulled her car over and asked him if she could suck his cock.  She was a beautiful woman, trim and athletic with long auburn hair, dressed in a business suit and heels, so he wouldn¹t mistake her for a hooker....  She wondered... Would he take her up on it?  Would he tell his wife?  Would he want to let some of the other guys in on it?  The way she was feeling today, her body was telling her 'the more the merrier.'

 Renee didn¹t often feel this way, but today was definitely one of ³those days.²  As she sat waiting for the light to change, she was intensely aware of the texture of the leather steering wheel beneath her fingertips.  She slid them lightly around the wheel, then across the horn, back to the wheel, the pads of her fingers sending sparks at every change, from smooth to grainy to the cracks in the pad over the horn....  Her window rolled down slightly, the breeze blew the fine wisps of hair over her forehead, her cheek, her neck ... her lips.  She moistened their dryness with her tongue and felt immediately light-headed at the sensation, her nipples growing hard beneath her shirt.  She¹d been like this all day.

 The stoplight turned to green, and Renee drove on past the construction worker who never looked up from his sandwich.

 When Renee was a teenager, every other day was like today.  She was on fire from morning till night, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night with sexual cravings so bad she had to double her pillow over her mouth to stifle the screams of frustration and longing.  Her body simply NEEDED.  It was nothing she could provide, nothing she could do herself, with her own hands -- she needed a lover to smother her, to bury her with his weight, the smell of his body thick in her nostrils, the taste and feel of his flesh as she bit into him, the texture of his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips as he moved over her, into her, as she raged at him seeking salvation.

 She never found that salvation, of course.  No man could be all those things to her, no man could save her.  So she learned to live with disappointment, to settle for men as they were ... weak, civilized, gentle, selfish, powerless.

 And now she was old enough to recognize the balance those negative attributes required.  Did she really think that a man who would fuck her the way she desperately wanted and needed to be fucked would be good for anything else?  A steady job?  A responsible living companion??  No, of course not.  So, dreams are dreams, and nothing more.

 But something had awakened in her.  The old craving had lit her up again. She couldn¹t function and was dizzy all the time.  She was tired and alittle confused, but breathless, longing, driven.  The intensity of it wrecked her, and it was all his fault.

 She saw him in a bar.  She¹d stopped in on the long drive home one night last week when she felt herself growing sleepy behind the wheel and thought a drink might wake her up a bit.  She¹d been nursing her drink for about ten minutes when he sat down a few stools down from her.  He didn¹t even look her way, but she sensed him before she saw him.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell by the way he was hunched over his drink that he was in a sour mood.  He was puffing on a cigar -- she hated cigars.  He  grumbled something to the bartender and glanced suspiciously her way then back to his drink.  He was gorgeous, not so much in his appearance as his attitude. Tall , with ruffled longish dark hair and piercing dark eyes, broad shoulders cloaked in a battered leather jacket.  There was something feral about him, something cagey, wary, brooding.

 There was a palpable thickness to the air radiating from him, something smoldering, savage, surrounding and enveloping her.  She had the sense to not look at him directly, but still she felt the stirring inside her.  A moth to the flame.    ³No,² she spoke quietly to herself.  She set a five on the bar to cover her beer and left without glancing back.

 Renee frequently felt confused by the world, by the actions of others.  But she knew her own actions far too well.  She craved danger -- it gave her an unbelievable rush, and she was utterly addicted.  She would never allow herself to own a sports car, for instance.  She was already far too dangerous in her own car.  And this man was dangerous in so many ways.  If nothing else, it would shatter her relationship with Jim.

 In her heart of hearts, she loved Jim and she knew he was good for her.  He wasn¹t always stable himself, but he was kind and reliable and he loved her very much.  But there was something missing.  After so many years of one night stands, Renee always thought that sex would be better with someone she loved, more intimate and continually improving as she became more and more
familiar with her partner.  But either that was untrue in general, or it was untrue with her and Jim.  Either way, she was left wanting.  She¹d accepted that it was a trade-off, and that overall it was a good deal for her.  She was even beginning to think maybe the problem was all her, that she couldn¹t feel that level of passion anymore.

 Now she knew different.  She left the bar and made her way quickly to her car, overwhelmed by lust and desire, battling the images of this new man, of them together in this dark parking lot, sensations that flooded her brain like a slide projector shuttling through image after image after image -- his mouth on hers, hands in her hair, her legs wrapped around his sleek torso.  She slammed the door closed behind her and sat with her hands firmly grasping the wheel, trying not to let them fly off, wanting to touch, wanting to be touched.  ³No, no, no, no, no.  Please, no.²  She dropped her head onto the steering wheel, trying to press some common sense into her free-wheeling brain.  Jesus, what kind of voodoo had he sent her way??

 After a few deep breaths, she¹d regained enough composure to realize that although the parking lot was dark, it wasn¹t that dark, and she should probably get out of there before she got herself into some kind of trouble she wasn¹t looking for.

 She made it home safely, of course, and Jim met her at the door, telling her he¹d been worried, that she looked tired.  Would she like him to run her a bath?  She said no and retired early, too exhausted and confused to deal with any more reality today.  Jim followed her to bed and they made love, but still Renee was left wanting.  She nearly wept with the emptiness that coursed her body, as she struggled to hide her longing from Jim.

*     *     *

 That was last week.  And her mind and body had been on fire ever since.  At work, she was frequently distracted by images of him, fantasies she was inventing without any conscious thought.  Images of him hovering over her, of him pinning her against a wall, crushing his lips down over hers.... Thoughts of the muscles of his arms and his legs, straining against his clothing, made her weak in the knees, reaching out to steady herself.  She told coworkers she had the flu.  But, of course, her condition was far more
serious.

 And what was she going to do about it?  As a teenager, her saviors were always imagined, never real.  Fantasies of muscle-bound, powerful men conquering her, allowing her to vent her rage, they were all inventions. But now there was someone real, someone who stepped right out of her fantasies and into reality.

 But she was sensible enough to recognize that this man might be truly dangerous.  He could be psychopathic, abusive, any number of things not part of ³the fantasy.²  Or, as so often happens in reality, he could let her down in some other way -- he might be stupid, for instance, or humorless.

 In any case, it was ruining her life, this mystery man/fantasy.  So, somewhat hesitantly, she made a decision to check it out.  She planned to go back to the bar and find something wrong with this man so that she could just get on with her life.  Hell, he probably wouldn¹t even be there.

 The day she planned to go, she was surprised how excited she was all day. She was upbeat and happy and sort of electrically charged.  She¹d managed to conquer her inner demons enough that she dressed more appropriately for ³stopping for a drink² than for ³trying to get laid.²  After work, she hopped in her car and headed towards home, trying not to earn a speeding ticket along the way.  She was so excited she could hardly catch her breath.  As she pulled into the parking lot of the bar, it occurred to her she didn¹t even know exactly what it was that she planned to do.  Oh well, she was here, and it was something that had to be confronted or she was going to lose her fucking mind.

*     *     *

 She walked into the bar and immediately saw him, perched on the exact same stool as last week.  She stopped dead in her tracks.  He was wearing the same leather jacket, blue jeans with, of course, a chained wallet fitted snugly into a rear pocket.  Broad shoulders, thick head of dark hair, nice ass ... she was already losing it.  For a moment, she entertained thoughts of leaving -- this was trouble, and a wiser woman would have beat feet and got the hell out of there.  But of all the things Renee felt today, ³wise² wasn¹t one of them.  There was a seat available next to him at the bar.  She sat down and ordered a beer.

 She could see him more clearly reflected in the mirror behind the bar this time, and if she was going to find something wrong with him, it certainly wasn¹t in his face.  He was, as last time, quiet, a little sullen, almost glowering, and hunkered down over his beer, puffing on a stogie.  But every now and then, he¹d look up, look around -- his eyes were a deep brown, almost almond-shaped, with fine wrinkles at the corners.  His bone structure was perfect, with high cheekbones and an aqualine nose, somehow enhanced rather than diminished by his long, bushy sideburns .. mutton chops, she remembered they were called.

 She must¹ve been gazing a little too long, because suddenly he was staring right back at her in the reflection, and looking a little pissed off about it to boot.  ³Sorry,² she mumbled, looked down at the bar and took a long swig of beer.  She could feel that he was still staring at her.  And she liked it.  She looked up into the mirror, met his gaze and held it, a little challengingly, but it was she who looked away again, taking another pull at her beer.  The intensity of his gaze pierced right through her.  She could feel that feeling welling up in her as he silently challenged her.  She moistened her lips and took a deep breath.  She was going to have to leave.
She turned to grab her coat.

 ³Need another?²  The voice that startled her was deep, black velvet, with a touch of an accent, though she couldn¹t place it.  She looked over, and he wasn¹t even looking at her, he was looking down at his drink, puffing on his cigar.  He then turned his eyes and met her gaze.  This time she held steady, ³No thanks, I¹m fine.²  She could feel it again, that thickness to the air, surrounding her, stealing her breath.

 ³Then what are you here for?² he asked, suspiciously.  He added, a little playfully, ³You aren¹t supposed to be here.²

 Renee stared at him -- how could he know?  She & Jim weren¹t married, so she wore no ring.  Was there something else?  She thought a long time -- his lips were beautiful as they wrapped around the lip of the beer bottle.  Her own beer was making her feel alittle light-headed.  ³You¹re right, I should go.²  She swept up her coat and headed for the car.

 What had she been thinking?  Her demons had tricked her into coming out here under the guise of finding something not to like, but in the end, she was hotter than she¹d been the first night.  She wanted this man, desperately, and now she was going to have to fight harder than ever to squelch this desire, to hide it from Jim.

 As she grabbed for her car door handle, she realized she¹d been followed. He spun her around and pinned her to the car, kissing her roughly.  She could taste his cigar, his whiskey as his tongue probed her open lips.  He brazenly grabbed her and crushed her to him, his chest was rock hard as he pressed his thigh into her crotch.  Renee damn near passed out.  ³What are you doing here?²  he whispered roughly against her ear.

 Renee was too far gone to think -- she¹d just been given what she¹d always wanted.  ³I need you... I need..² she whimpered.

 He eased up, pulled back a little and looked her up and down, never taking his hands off her.  She thought she could hear a low growl rumbling from his chest as he stroked her cheek, grinning a subtle devilish grin, ³I know just what you need.²

*     *     *
 

 This story doesn¹t have a happy ending, so if you¹re waiting to see how this all works out, you¹ll be gravely disappointed.  But I can tell you one thing -- Renee got her brains fucked out that night.  It was everything she¹d ever wanted and imagined and fantasized about.  He was gorgeous and strong and powerful and virile, and she came and came and came.  His cock was as huge and sweet and stiff as any she¹d ever dreamed of.  He was immensely strong, and he picked her up and put her in whatever position he
wanted her in, and she loved every minute of it.

 But there¹s a moral to this story.  I don¹t know what it is, but there is one.  He left the next morning after fucking her raw all night long.  And she never saw him again.  The relationship with Jim fell apart, of course. Less because she didn¹t come home (which he could sort of understand) than because she¹d discovered someone out there who could fit the bill, as it were.  She was much happier alone anyway.  She missed Jim¹s companionship, but she needed something to fill her dark soul, and Jim never even understood what a dark soul was....  Her days were empty except for work, but she¹d sacrificed everything to find out if it was true.  And it was.
And that was all she would ever need for the rest of her life.