The stranger

She spots him outside the station. A man older than her. A stranger. She shouldn't stare. Her lips part anyway. Inside his car she leans over the gear stick, taking him into her mouth. Soft at first. Then deeper. His hand finds the back of her head and she doesn't pull away. The lingerie beneath her skirt was bought that morning. Pink lace. New. When he slides the panties down she turns onto her stomach, heart racing. She has never done this. The first push makes her gasp into the pillow. He keeps going. Slow. Steady. Her fingers twist the sheets while he works deeper. She pushes back. He takes the hint. After he finishes she stays on her knees, breathing hard, thighs sticky, the taste of him still on her tongue.