Who cares? Did you feel the size of that cock? my traitorous body asked.
No. Just dinner.
Maybe some kissing.
Yes, kissing.
Kissing is fine.
Kissing didn’t mean I wanted to tear his clothes off with my teeth and ride him like a bucking bronco. Fluffing my hair, I ran my fingers through it to work out some of the tangles.
Damn, I needed to hurry. I had already taken too long and I didn’t want him to think I was doing that in here.
Leaning over, I grabbed a few paper towels and ran them under the faucet. Taking the tip of the scrunched-up bunch, I scrubbed any bits of mud off my skin and boots.
Giving my hair one last flip, I shoved all the items back into my Brahmin purse, saving the perfume for last. I gave my neck a quick spritz, turning as there was a disgruntled yowl. Seeing the older woman scowling behind me, my shoulders rounded as I scrunched up my nose. “So sorry!” I exclaimed.
She left the ladies’ room with a muttered, “American,” under her breath.
Giving my appearance a final once-over, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
It’s just dinner.
What’s the worst that could happen?