3

I tugged my skirt back into place and attempted to slip around him toward the door. With a single powerful arm, he blocked my way. As he pressed me against the wall with his hip, I finally grasped the true scale of his size. I sensed the shape of him pressing hot against my belly. It hit me what he probably believed I 'owed' him, and my eyes flew open. A horrified breath caught in my throat as I scanned his face.

He was gazing down at me with a smile, not a trace of cruelty in his expression. "You are perfect," he whispered, then brushed a chaste kiss across my forehead.

I have no idea how I made it through the remainder of dinner with Jeff. I returned to the table clutching my sweater in a death grip, hiding the wet spot above my right breast. That dampness never got cleaned up, and by now it felt a hundred times worse.

I had been too panicked to pause and retrieve my panties, so it felt like I was drenching the back of my skirt. Making matters worse, I couldn't make sense of Mr. Tall and Dark's low chuckle as he released me from the stall, nor his cryptic, "I'll see you later, Elizabeth."

'How does he know my name?' turned into the frantic refrain looping through my mind for the rest of the meal. Luckily, Jeff appeared content to carry on his monologue about the troubles plaguing twentieth-century real estate. At one point he did remark that I might look flushed. I almost burst out laughing right in his face.

"It must be that cold the kids have been passing around," I managed to stammer. "I suppose I should head home," I was desperate for an escape.

Jeff looked almost wounded, but something must have been done to his face, because he couldn't quite furrow his brow with worry. I felt like I was losing my mind and had an urge to burst out giggling. I needed to get back home right away.

The chill in the air outside appeared to sharpen my rattled senses. After I gave the valet my ticket, I drew my sweater snugly around myself. It was nothing more than a fling, I assured myself. There's nothing to be concerned about. This sort of thing happens to other women constantly, I pictured.

What unsettled me more was that I felt completely nothing when Jeff put his lips on mine as our cars pulled up. The only thing on my mind was warm lips pinning me to a chilly bathroom wall. What was the matter with me?

Climbing into my truck was the first moment of comfort I'd had the entire night. I dug into my purse and took out my Ipod. It was filled with blaring, obnoxious music I could lose myself in. I turned the rock up as loud as it would go, attempting to block out the night.

I sped home at speeds I normally wouldn't dare drive. The speedometer was nearing ninety when red and blue lights appeared in my rear view mirror. On a deserted stretch of highway I came to a stop and unleashed curse words I hadn't spoken in years.

As I scrambled with my glove box, the officer walked up to my car and leaned into the open window. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, settling his arms on the edge. It was, without question, the most relaxed stance I've ever witnessed from a police officer. I simply remained seated, holding my license and registration, my gaze fixed on him. Leaning inside, he grasped a single lock of my hair. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, then placed it gently back against my shoulder.

"So, what's the rush, Miss Elizabeth?" he inquired, without ever requesting to see my identification.

I felt torn between laughing and crying, because the entire situation struck me as so bizarre.

"I was only heading home, I wasn't feeling well and ..." My sentence fell apart halfway through when it hit me that he already knew my name. A second time he sniffed the air, and this time it was far more obvious.

"He got you all worked up, didn't he?" the officer questioned me.

Then I became aware of just how large the man leaning into my window actually was. His thick, dark hair was cropped extremely short, in military fashion. There was something deeply familiar about him.

"Well, I did ask you a question," he said with a smile, leaning closer, and it felt as though he were toying with me.

"Y-Yes," I managed to stammer, "I'm worked up," far too frightened to say anything further.

I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that this man might know what had taken place at the restaurant. Slowly, I shook my head and kept my eyes on him. There was no way that could be true.

"Don't go so fast," the officer said, drawing back from the window and patting my shoulder. With that, he strolled back over to his cruiser, switched off the Christmas lights, and eased back out onto the road.

He stayed put until I had gotten my truck going and moved ahead of him. I assumed he would simply trail me for a little while and then return to his usual patrol route. He stayed behind me the entire way to my house.

At some point it struck me that "Don't go so fast" isn't actually a warning at all, and I looked back at him. I couldn't make out much, but something inside the car appeared to be giving off a faint yellow glow.

When I finally reached home, I parked in front of the garage and climbed out. Feeling self-conscious, I straightened my skirt and stole a glance at the patrol car. He waved back at me in a friendly way, grinning the entire time. I hurried up the front steps and went inside my little house.

Once I was in, I set the alarm and double-checked that the door locks were secure. After that, I all but sprinted to the bathroom, tore off my clothes, and hopped into the shower. As I scrubbed, I gave serious thought to burning the clothes I'd been wearing. It must have been the outfit, I told myself reproachfully. No more attention from men for me.

While showering, I tried to wash away Mr. Tall and Dark's touches, only belatedly recalling that I didn't even know his name. It was mortifying. I had never once messed up like this before. Particularly not with a man who appeared capable of having the police follow me. That was far too strange to even contemplate. I had to have erased the bit about him knowing my name, otherwise I'd have been gasping for air.

Yet before long, my scrubbing took on an entirely different character. I wasn't washing Mr. Tall and Dark away; I was rubbing, trying to bring back what he'd stirred in me. My fingers traced across my sensitive nipples, and I wished he had lingered there longer. No, no, no, this was all wrong, and yet it felt incredible.

While soaping myself up, I paused at my labia, caressing slowly before giving my clit a few quick flicks. One finger slid inside me while my other hand worked my clit in lazy circles that gradually sped up. Far too quickly I felt myself tighten and climax, bracing against the shower wall. Getting off twice in one bathroom seemed like more than enough for a single night, so I rushed through the remainder of my shower.

Stepping out of the foggy bathroom, I gave my heap of clothes a kick, deciding I'd sort them out in the morning. I cinched my worn robe tightly at the waist and shuffled off toward the kitchen. The hour was late, yet I wasn't the least bit tired. Since I knew a long day lay ahead, I rummaged through the kitchen drawers until I located the small bottle. During residency, when sleep wouldn't come, they had been my lifeline. Those tiny miracle pills could knock out a rhino.

I placed one on my tongue, then another. Likely a poor choice, but I truly needed to unwind. Wonderful, now I'm misusing pills. This evening was proving absolutely magnificent.

A short while later, I sank into a sleep without dreams. Boy, those pills really hit the spot — that was the final thought I had before slipping under.