About Damn Time
She really, really shouldnt.
Like, not at all.
Dont do it, Liv, she thinks to herself. Youll get in trouble. This is one of those things that you will think back on later and file under Ideas, Very Bad. So dont do it.
But.
She cant help but stare. He is just so gorgeous.
Hes not yours, you stupid woman. Its not allowed.
But.
So. Freakin. Gorgeous. So very broad, and, whats the word? Muscle-y.
She bites her lip, fingers the edge of her pants. She knows that if she stays like this for too long, somebodys going to notice her. Shed be dreadfully embarrassed.
And yet. Desire wins out. She walks up to him, trails a finger over his defined lines. Soon the rest of her fingers join and shes simply full-out caressing him.
Screw it, she thinks. Im single, Im forty-three, and Ive waited long enough. Time to take whats mine.
Can I help you, miss?
She straightens and faces the man in the cheap suit.
Yes. Id like to know how much the Mustang is, please.