The Night Before I Knew Him
The doors open to my private garage.
My car greets me like a routine—clean leather, tinted windows, climate just right. I slip in, slamming the door shut.
I exhale hard, throw my head back, and loosen my tie.
Then I unlock my phone. Habit guides my fingers, and open the site, type something fast—rough girl, blow job, brunette. First link.
It starts playing, and my hand finds its way down. I quickly unbuckle, palm myself through my slacks. I need release, not comfort. I need noise, moans, something to tear this obsession out of me.