Saturday exitement

He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into
a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice
close to my ear.

"Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands
start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves,
slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat.

I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so
experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a
slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding.

I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he
cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.

Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my
shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man
not used to taking 'No' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he
wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say . . . .

"Okay ma'am, you can board your flight now."